


What's Your Name?

by Anthropasaurus



Series: Corvid [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: But it's to be expected when a Dalish lives in the Circle, But she's getting better and taking notice of her problem behaviors, Depression, Dismantling the Crows and playing surrogate older brother, F/M, Friendship with The Warden helped him find his self-worth, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Past Rape and Abuse, Now he's back in Antiva City, OC is an awkward touch-starved lady, She does not deal with her mental health well at all, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Sweet Zevran Arainai, This is technically a prologue to a much bigger thing in the works, and trying to make things right, as well as meeting his future wife...though he doesn't quite realize that yet. lol, she's learning how to be a person again with his help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthropasaurus/pseuds/Anthropasaurus
Summary: “Pequeña cuervo, do you have a name?”“Why name…why-" Raven breathed, trying to calm her nerves. "-does knowing my name have anything to do with this?”“A woman as beautiful as you must have a name as equally alluring, no?” he purred. “How do you do? My name is Zevran Arainai, adventurer and occasional assassin.”Raven tensed and backed up against the railing. Though her instinctive reaction was to flee, she did not feel her anxiety clawing its way to the surface. But neither did she feel entirely at ease. It was a weird limbo that plucked at what remained of her curiosity.“M-mage,” Raven blurted, refusing to budge from where she stood.“Mage? Is this your name or what you are?”“O-or Dalish...what you can call me.” Raven attempted a disinterested shrug. But she knew it looked forced and the responding smirk from the stranger told her as such.“Ahhh, another magical temptress that has come to lure me to temptation,” Zevran sighed as he placed his hand over his heart. “How exciting!”Edit 09/23/2020: I am in the process of reworking this entire series. Old chapters will be replaced some time in the future.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Inquisitor, Zevran Arainai/Female Lavellan, Zevran Arainai/Original Character(s), Zevran Arainai/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Corvid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663858
Comments: 28
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [ranawaytothedas](https://ranawaytothedas.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Without her telling me to stop flapping my gums and actually post it, it'd still be in my WIP folder lol
> 
> You can find me over at [cornfedcrypitd](https://cornfedcryptid.tumblr.com) <3

_Antiva City six months after the Circles fell_

The morning was quiet like any other. The songbirds heralded the coming day as the city rose with the sun. A lone elf watched the coming sunrise with eyes still blurred with sleep. Since the Circles fell and Raven had joined Natalia in Antiva City, she watched the sun every morning on the roof of the woman’s villa and shop. 

Raven was an elf that stuck out like a sore thumb, whenever she had the courage to step out into the sea of people of the city. It wasn’t her snow white hair or pale skin that gave people pause, nor the facial scar that always teased the hint of a sneer. Her cloudy gray eyes gave people pause if she ever made eye contact with them. But none of these things stuck out more than her vallaslin. 

A Dalish in the city of shems. But it wasn’t by choice. The home she once knew and loved had been slaughtered at the hands of shems...or so Edgar led her to believe. The Circle had become her home all those years ago. But it was not welcoming to Dalish. She died in the dark the night they threw her in the dungeon, broken and bleeding. It was to set the tone for the next eight years. The only respite Raven received was the day Natalia was transferred from the Antiva Circle. The same woman who brought Raven to the city to live with her and her wife Gabriella. 

During the days leading up to the dissolution of the Circles Raven had entertained the idea that she could find them, or at the very least come across another clan that could help her. But the moment she stepped outside and felt the sun on her face she knew there was no way she'd find them. 

If her diversion that had ultimately led to being brought to the Circle had succeeded, Clan Lavellan would never return. But tracking wasn't the least of her issues. Raven was essentially blind without her glasses, something Edgar exploited regularly. He was still a festering wound on Raven’s being. One she feared would never truly heal. Each time she looked in the mirror, she was reminded less and less of what he had done. Food and sleep filled her scrawny body to lush curves. But he would never truly be gone from her. Not when her face was marred with a scar that not even magic could heal. 

“Raven!” Gabriella’s smoky voice snapped Raven out of her thoughts. “Breakfast is ready.” Gabriella didn’t wait for Raven to acknowledge if she had heard her. The older woman had learned early on Raven was a person of few words and easy to spook. 

With a sigh, Raven slid down to her balcony, the clay tiles warm under the rising sun. Once inside Raven pulled off her nightgown and stood in front of her floor length mirror. It had become a ritual of a sort, as the months progressed. She would look to see if there was anything that reminded her of Edgar. It got harder to see things as the months passed. Both Natalia and Gabriela did what they could, each in their own ways to help. One taught her to fight and the other gave Raven her body back. It was but a fraction of what she had been. But if that’s all there would ever be, she would cling to it. 

“We have a job for you.” 

Gabriella slid a slip of paper across the table to Raven. The writing was unfamiliar and spoke of raiding one of the mansions at the top of the hill. At the bottom a rather cheerful invitation was extended to Gabriella.

“But they’re asking for you. What can I do to help? I can’t fight like you.” 

“True,” Gabriella nodded over the rim of her mug. “However ‘tis of no importance. This is your job now. Do not worry. The magic you know and the skills you have learned in the past several months will be more than enough.”

Raven pursed her lips together, a thought on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to speak up and refuse. But she was still afraid they would kick her out if she upset them in any way. The last thing Raven wanted to do was give them cause to reconsider their generous offer. 

“I know you are afraid, bichito,” Gabriella said, her gaze softening. “But I would not ask this of you if I did not think you were capable. You cannot spend the rest of your life hiding away.”

“I-I’m not hiding,” Raven muttered. “I do leave the villa.”

“In the safety of the night, in animal form.” 

Raven’s mouth snapped shut, knowing full well there was no arguing with Gabriella. The older woman was right, and they both knew it. It wasn’t for lack of trying on Raven’s part. She had tried in the past to venture out to the market with Natalia. But the press of people against her, the sights, smells, and sounds were too much for her. She never made it past the third block before she would completely shut down, her anxiety making it impossible for her to move. It was easy enough to block out the sights and sounds. But the feel of the people as they flowed all around her made her sick. Edgar had ruined any desire to be touched by another. 

“Don’t fret.” Natalia breezed into the room and deposited a plate heaped with food in front of Raven. “You won’t be doing this for free. The noble that lives in that house has a penchant for forbidden items. He was a customer of our shop many times in the past. If I remember correctly, he has a nice little collection of forbidden tomes tucked away in a secret library.”

“Oh?” Raven’s fingers started to twitch as she thought of the potential treasures the library held. It was not uncommon for nobles to possess books of the arcane, most of which contained what most would consider ‘dark magic.’ With the dissolution of the Circles it was becoming more and more common. Tomes that had only ever been held by mages were slowly filling the aristocracy's libraries. 

“Just be forewarned,” Natalia said as she perched herself on the arm of Gabriella’s chair. “The man can’t be trusted. Don’t fall prey to his honeyed words. Do not tell him your name, and keep conversation with him short.”

“Th-then why am I helping him if he can’t be trusted?” Anxiety started to claw its way into the otherwise quiet morning, flashes of rough hands and the press of stone against her face threatening to pull her from the present. But the feel of Natalia’s hand on her bare arm snapped her from her thoughts. Raven jumped and pulled her arm away from Natalia’s touch, unaware of the look that flashed across the woman’s face.

“Because you need to start earning your keep,” Gabriella sniffed. “He is not a bad man. I have known him for a very long time, and trust him with my life." 

"However," Natalia interrupted. "He is an incorrigible flirt, and will more than likely try to charm his way into your bed.”

“Bichito, can you give us a moment alone?” Gabriella asked.

“Of-of course.” A look of confusion flashed across Raven’s face as she grabbed her plate. She disappeared into the courtyard, and felt both pairs of eyes on her as she settled at the stone table. Whatever was being said there pertained to her. Raven wanted to protest. But the fear was ever present and held her tongue. It made the food on her plate taste like sand, as she tried to chew.

“My love,” Natalia sighed as Gabriella’s arm snaked around her waist. “I don’t see how those two meeting will be a good idea. She’s only been out of the tower for six months. Meeting Zevran is not something that should be happening right now.”

“‘Tis exactly what should be happening right now.” Gabriella watched Raven through the window for several heartbeats before turning her attention back to her wife. “She can show him he deserves to be loved, and he can teach her how to live again.”

“Raven is living,” Natalia all but snapped. “You know what she was like when she first came! How long did it take before she even looked you in the eye? You need to accept that what’s out in the courtyard may be all she can be.”

“You are right, she is living,” Gabriella began, her hand moving to rub up and down Natalia’s back. “But I have seen the small sparks of something in there when we spar. It wants to break free. But either she does not know how to let it free or she is too scared. She needs someone to show her how…to give her a reason to want to. Their pasts are not so different, if you strip the paint away. Each had who they were beaten and raped from them. But Zevran came out the other side still a compassionate man. Whatever happened in Ferelden changed him.”

“I suppose...you’re right. I’ll kill him if he hurts her though,” Natalia growled.

“I know, vida mía,” Gabriella chuckled. “But I do not think that will be necessary.”

The bell struck midnight when Raven took to the sky. She was fortunate the city was well lit this late at night. Once she had gotten over the initial fear of finding Edgar or a templar around every corner, Raven ventured out into the city in various animal forms. Each night Raven went farther than the last, and a kernel of herself would crawl out of the abyss.  
The house was at the top of the hill, overlooking the entire city. Colorful lanterns interspersed throughout the city cast a colorful glow over the buildings. At night, it seemed magical, free of the conflict and greed that lurked under its surface. It was when Raven felt the most comfortable. There wasn’t a barrage of sounds and colors to overwhelm her senses. She could truly stay present, instead of retreating into the safety of her mind.  
Raven circled the manor, looking for a point of entry. What she found instead was a cloaked figure lounging on the edge of the building, eating an apple. On her second flyby, she saw the tattoos on his face that Gabriella had described to her. She landed by the man and held out her leg. Once the note was removed she hopped along the edge, trying to alleviate the boredom. She stopped when the man’s chuckle reached her ears.

“You are bored too? Alas we are doomed to wait.” 

Raven stopped her hopping and looked over at the man. She tilted her head to the side, confused and curious as to why he would talk to an animal like it would respond. The letter said nothing of her coming in animal form, so he shouldn't know who she was. But those were questions best left unanswered, as Natalia's warning returned to the forefront of her mind. With a ruffle of her feathers she continued her hopping. 

“Where Gabriella manages to find such interesting pets I will never know.” 

Raven stopped her bouncing and started to bristle. _I am no pet!_ She rounded on him and landed a solid peck to the meat of his thigh. Raven followed and pecked as he tried to scurry away from her, her annoyed hissing filled the air between his pleas.

“I yield! I yield!” He held up his hands, trying to ward off Raven’s onslaught. “I have upset you, yes? I didn't mean to offend. Please accept my apologies.” 

Raven paused and eyed him for several seconds before deflating her feathers. She settled back on the edge of the roof, her gaze drawn out to the city down below.

“It is beautiful, no?” Zevran asked with a wistful sigh. 

The two sat in silence until the toll of two bells stirred Zevran to action. With skill that only came from decades of training, he leapt off the side of the building, and onto the rung on the balcony several feet below. The lock on the window was picked and he was inside before Raven even took flight. 

Zevran stared at the slip of paper, confusion wrinkling his brow as Raven landed on the balcony. The note in his hand was hastily written in Gabriella’s hand, telling him she wouldn’t be joining. An apostate from the Ansburg Circle would join him instead. She reassured him that said mage would be more than capable to do what he needed from Gabriella. Movement from the corner of his eye drew his gaze back to the window. 

“A Dalish elf?” 

Zevran quirked his brow as he looked the woman in front of him up and down. At first glance he could see how and why people would fear her. But Zevran was not one that spooked easily. Oh no. He did help The Hero of Ferelden stop the Fifth Blight, didn’t he? Once Zevran looked again, he found himself drawn to the sharpness of her beauty. His gaze lingered on the fullness of her lips, the thought of wanting to know what they felt like against his waiting in the back of his mind. 

“Gab..Gabriella sent me.” Raven glanced at the man in front of her, feeling more exposed than if she were bare. It felt as though his gaze saw through her and into her very soul. But he did not flinch, like all the others when they first looked at her. For a brief moment Raven felt as though she was truly being seen. 

“Pequeña cuervo, do you have a name?” 

“Why name….why-" Raven breathed, trying to calm her nerves. "-does knowing my name have anything to do with this?”

“A woman as beautiful as you must have a name as equally alluring, no?” he purred. “How do you do? My name is Zevran Arainai, adventurer and occasional assassin.”

Raven tensed and backed up against the railing. Though her instinctive reaction was to flee, she did not feel her anxiety clawing its way to the surface. But neither did she feel entirely at ease. It was a weird limbo that plucked at what remained of her curiosity. 

“M-mage,” Raven blurted, refusing to budge from where she stood.

“Mage? Is this your name or what you are?”

“O-or Dalish...what you can call me.” Raven attempted a disinterested shrug. But she knew it looked forced and the responding smirk from the stranger told her as such. 

“Ahhh, another magical temptress that has come to lure me to temptation,” Zevran sighed as he placed his hand over his heart. “How exciting!” 

Since they had started talking, Zevran noticed she looked no different than a cornered animal. What had her so terrified he had some semblance of an idea, given where she came from. But he was more concerned with her usefulness in the coming plan. This was not a job that required two people. He could have gone in and slit the noble’s throat by now. Zevran had only extended his invitation because he knew this was the man that was behind Natalia being sent to the Circle in Ansburg. 

“Return home. Your assistance is not needed.” Zevran turned and made for the door, drawing one of his daggers. 

“N-no!” 

Raven fade stepped to behind him, her hand gripping his arm. Before she could even blink Zevran knocked off her hand and had her pinned to the wall with a dagger to her throat. Gone was the loose fluidity of his movements, and the easy smile to his face. In front of her stood a cold-hearted killer. There was no doubt of that in the coldness of his gaze. 

Yet Raven wasn't afraid. Too often she had felt the sharp edge of a blade against her flesh, and should be afraid-even begging not to die. But the longer the silence stretched the less cold his stare became. For the briefest of moments, Raven thought she saw something else. Something she saw in her own eyes all too often.

“I don’t want Gabriella slitting my throat because you were killed. Go home, pequeña cuervo,” Zevran sighed. He stepped away and left her without a backward glance, closing the door behind him. 

It took several minutes after Zevran left before Raven came back to herself. Everything had happened so fast that by the time she realized what had happened, his dagger was to her throat. It was not the first time a man has held a blade to her skin. But it was the first time Raven wasn’t gripped with fear. What confused her more was when her body didn’t shirk from his touch. The familiar nausea that came whenever someone touched her wasn’t there with him.  
Curious. 

Raven left the room, thinking to follow him. But she had no idea which direction he went. But the words from Gabriella before she left returned as she stopped at the top of the stairs. 

_“There tis a grand staircase, almost Orleasian in gaudiness. At the top, take a right and head down the first hall. The library will be the first door on the left. I do not know where he has hidden the tomes. But they will be in a secret room.”_

The room was easy to find, and Raven slipped inside as she pulled on her mana. With a gesture of her hand, small glowing orbs floated in the air and illuminated the room. 

“If I was a noble with dark magic tomes, where would I hide them?” She muttered to herself as she wandered further into the room. “Come out. Come out, wherever you are.” 

On the other side of the house, Zevran made his way to his target’s room. He intended to make this quick and clean. But when he slipped inside of the room, the bed was noticeably empty. A quick search of the adjoining rooms yielded no results. 

“Braska!” he cursed.

Zevran knew his information was correct. Alfonso Martel was always home by midnight. He had watched the carriage carrying the oily nobleman home while he had waited for who he thought was going to be Gabriella to join him. Instead a waif of an elf appeared on the balcony, wrapped in naivety. But Zevran saw the look on her face when he pushed her against the wall. It was nothing akin to desire. But it also wasn’t fear. 

He wandered into the hallway and spotted the hem of a robe disappearing into a room at the end of the hall. Curious, he followed. As he passed the landing on the stairs, the sound of a startled shout spurred him into a sprint. Though she had only said a dozen words at most, he knew the shout came from the mage. Dagger in hand, ready to throw, Zevran burst into the room only to stop short. He had expected to find the young woman at the Martel’s mercy. 

But it was the exact opposite. Martel looked as though he had fallen to his knees at the mage’s feet. Her hand was outstretched and she watched the older man claw at his throat while he choked on his own blood. With a clench of her fist the human’s neck snapped and he slumped to the ground dead. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for a secret room.” Smoke billowed out from the tips of her fingers and snaked throughout the room. It swirled up and around Zevran, caressing him like a lover. There was a small crack in between two bookcases that would have been missed by the naked eye. But the smoke slipped inside with ease. 

“Found you.” 

“You are full of surprises.” Zevran ran his hands through the dissipating smoke. “But if it was a secret room you were searching for, all you had to do was ask.” 

He reached up and pressed a hidden button on the side of one of the shelves. Zevran stood back as the bookshelf swung open, the scent of citrus tickling his nose as she brushed past. Zevran knew the strange woman forgot he was there when she disappeared inside. He followed at a sedate pace. With a flick of her wrist, more glowing orbs appeared, illuminating the room in a soft glow. Weapons, artifacts, books, and all manner of treasures were tucked away in this hidden room. Zevran expected her to make a beeline for the shiny baubles that would fetch a hefty sum. But she didn’t even spare them a glance as she stopped in front of a shelf filled with books. 

The woman from the balcony faded away as she reached out and ran the tips of her fingers along the spines. Whatever it was she muttered under her breath Zevran couldn’t hear, but one of the tomes responded. A low hum resonated from one wrapped in worn leather. 

“By the stone!” 

Her body almost vibrated with excitement as she snatched the book from the shelf. Nimble fingers untied the strings, the leather falling to the ground. Runes etched onto the spine glowed and hummed, an eerie green color giving the mage’s face an almost sickly pallor. 

“Did I hear what I think I heard? By the stone?” Curiosity laced Zevran’s voice as he peered over her shoulder. Like the spine, the text rippled with a sickly green color. 

“Master Orit said it every time he and my father had a breakthrough,” she muttered.

“How do you know a dwarf? You’re Dalish, are you not?”

“No." 

Zevran continued to watch, oddly entranced as she flitted about in front of the shelf. Each book passed by her hands, some placed back on the shelf while a handful of others joined a small stack. Wordlessly, Zevran gathered them in his arms, knowing there was no way she would be able to take them back to wherever she lived. 

“Come, o magical temptress,” Zevran said as he backed towards the door. “Witching Hour is almost upon us.”

“This is where we part ways, pequeña cuervo.” 

Zevran handed the stack of books back to Raven after she opened the back door to the villa. Little had been said between them as they wandered streets. Well little was said by Raven. Zevran on the other hand, had spent most of the time talking. Why he did, Raven did not know. But it was a relief to be with someone who did not expect her to respond. He seemed to understand what she was thinking at a glance, which in itself stirred a weird feeling inside of her. 

“On-on nydha, Zevran.” 

Raven slipped inside and made a beeline for her room. Her body was too wired for sleep and her mind too chaotic to read. So the books were deposited on her desk and she slipped out onto the roof after she changed into her nightgown. Sunrise was a couple hours away. Raven would just stay awake and wait. 

Across the city, Zevran was also too restless to sleep and sat atop the roof that housed his small apartment. There were a number of brothels he could have spent the rest of the night in, with pleasant company and delicious wine. But the thought left a sour taste in his mouth for the first time since he could last remember. So he chased the bitter wine he drank with thoughts of a Dalish mage who refused to tell him her name. Something that both amused and intrigued him.  
It would be too easy to ask Natalia or Gabriella the mage’s name the next time Zevran went to their shop during regular business hours. The little game that had started to take shape when they reached the villa would end. Zevran knew the mage for what she was, someone who had been through the void and back, and was protecting what little of her that was left. He couldn’t fault her that. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy teasing and tempting the pieces of her she kept hidden out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feat. ranawaytothedas' OC Maeve...who's a bit of a tit in her early years. lol

Not even three days had passed before Raven found herself on another rooftop in the dead of night. Earlier that day Gabriella had informed her there was another job Zevran required her assistance. Another break in, another mark, another noble who liked to collect ‘forbidden’ things.  
It made Raven’s fingers twitch at the thought. Much of what she had found that first night had been written in code, and she hadn’t been able to find the thread she needed to decipher it. Raven couldn’t fault the book’s author. Much of what was written in these books were considered blasphemous by southern Chantry standards.

Zevran arrived during the tolling of the hourly bell. It drowned out his greeting. Instead of spooking the mage, he settled on a crate and watched. Her lap was littered with sheets of paper, little notes scribbled in no particular order. A single orb hovered about her head, the pages illuminated in a soft glow. The minutes ticked by as he watched, discovering little mannerisms she would otherwise hide. Her mouth moved in time with whatever her mind was thinking, silent words tumbling from her lips. The end of the pencil tapped on the paper, picking up in speed and force when something vexed her. Her free hand thrummed the corners of the pages of the book, each catching on the underside of her nail. In most instances, Zevran would have found the incessant noises bothersome after a time. But with the mage in front of him, it was like a calming melody. In these little moments when she let the mask fall, Zevran found himself sliding deeper and deeper into the intrigue of discovering her. 

“Compa, next time make it difficult.”

A puff of swirling pale blue smoke heralded the arrival of a tall, lean woman. It was something Zevran was used to, and did nothing but glance in the woman’s direction. So engrossed Raven was in her work, the sudden commotion nearly sent her tumbling off the side of the building. But Zevran’s quick reflexes kept her upright, his hand shot out and grabbed her calf. The leather of her leg wraps a perfect grip. 

“I stole an Eluvian...yet you sent me for blasted keys...keys Compa? I am the finest thief of the age and you send me for keys!” 

The bored, almost accusatory tone of the young woman’s voice set Raven on edge. It rose in volume as she spoke. Zevran felt Raven tense under his hand, and at a quick glance noticed the faraway look in her eye. He gave her leg a gentle squeeze, in hopes she would return from wherever she went and look at him. 

“Buona serata, Sparrow.” 

There was a strained edge to his voice as he released Raven and turned back to the woman. She finally noticed Raven’s presence and focused an almost hostile glare at the side of Raven’s head.

“Andraste’s tits!” She cursed. “You could have said something.”

“You could also use the door, like a normal person, mija.” Zevran jutted his chin to the door that led to the rooftop behind the woman he called Sparrow. 

“Doors are obstacles, nothing more,” She smirked. “And what are you...a ghost? I’ve seen them you know, spirits...demons...darkspawn. Nothing like you though.” There was a tight edge to her voice, her bravado hiding the unease she felt when she glimpsed Raven’s face. 

Each word was like an invisible blow to Raven’s back. A reminder of everything Edgar would say to her, and more. After a brief glance, Raven turned her attention to her scattered notes, the hostile glare of the young woman burned into her mind. A half-mumbled apology and excuse was on her tongue when the sharpness of Zevran’s voice silenced her. 

“Mija, enough!” Zevran snapped. “Behave like you were not raised in the Wilds for just a few moments, yes?”

“What can I not ask a question?” 

Sparrow threw her hands up before crossing them in front of her leather clad chest. Despite the residual heat from the hot spring day, she was covered from neck to ankles in a fine black leather. The cursory glance Raven spared before she found her mind fighting against the memories of the Circle...of Edgar. It was nothing like Zevran or Raven’s gear, whose were of an obvious Antivan make. The intricate designs led her to believe Orlais, Master Oret’s words coming back to mind. 

_Pansy fuckin’ Orleasians, make everthin’ fancy fer no reason!_

“No, you may not mija,” Zevran chided, like a father with an unruly child. “You have done your task, well as always."

“Best thief of the age,” she smirked, arrogance written clearly on her face. 

“Si, Sparrow. But your job here is done.” 

Zevran handed one of the papers to Raven. He kept a firm grip forcing her to meet his eyes. The faraway look was still there, one he saw many times on his own face during his Crow training. But there was a moment of recognition and something else when their eyes met. Understanding? Gratitude? What he could not tell. The glance would have to be enough for now. With a sigh he released the paper and turned his attention back to his rebellious ward. 

“You are stealing something right? Why not enlist the best thief of the age rather than leave it to amateurs?” Sparrow sneered. “You want this for the client, no?”

“We have it handled.” 

“Do you? Do you, Zev?” The young woman questioned harshly. “I could follow and…” 

“No.” Zevran was firm with the young woman as he pulled a hefty bag of gold from his belt and placed it in the young woman’s gloved hands. “Here is your payment. Your usual rate.”

The young woman’s lips pursed as she bounced the bag of gold in her hand. Her odd bright gold eyes fell on Raven. “Not the mage rate…” The young woman noted with a tone of anger in the voice. “Compa, you know how I feel about mages…”

“You are a mage, mija.” Zevran pointed out in a soft tone to the girl who only seemed to get increasingly upset as she backed away from Zevran. 

“Stop with the lies!” Sparrow snapped. “Thief…I am a thief!” 

Zevran reached out for her but the young woman shook her head, and smacked it away. 

“If that-” Sparrow pointed at Raven, disgust dripping from her tone. “Thing gets you killed because of magical buggery…” 

“Mija!” Zevran snapped. 

“Next time it’s double… the mage rate,” she snapped.  
A disgusted scoff was the last thing Raven heard before Sparrow disappeared the same way she appeared. The silence stretched on between them, the sound of shuffling papers filling the dead air. 

“Pequeña cuervo-”

“It’s fine.” 

Raven’s voice was small, almost as if she was afraid to speak. She scrubbed her hand over her face and under her glasses, wiping away any tears that may have fallen. With the last of her things gathered she sat back and sucked in a deep breath. Everything was tucked safely inside a pouch at her side. Raven rose in one fluid motion, keeping distance between her and the ever shrinking space between her and Zevran. 

“She is not the first, and she won’t be the last.” 

“But-” 

“Please…jus-just leave it be.” 

“As you wish.” 

Zevran followed her off the roof of the building, his mind picking apart the events that had unfolded. When they passed through the city gates, he realized what her fleeting look had been. Acceptance. Just how often the nameless mage-who claimed to not be Dalish yet wore the vallaslin of one of their Creators-had heard such insults tugged at something within him. He wanted to comfort the strange mage, protect her from the harshness of the world. 

Not another word was said until they reached Emilio Salvatici’s house. He was a merchant that owned several of the largest vineyards in Antiva, his wealth growing exponentially in the past six months. His villa lay half a league outside the city, rows upon rows of grapevines heralding the edge of his lands. They had opted to walk, allowing their arrival to go undetected. 

Raven’s fingers trailed along the leaves of the branches, disturbing the dew that had begun to gather. The dirt felt warm under her feet, slipping in between the folds of her footwraps. Goosebumps spread down her arms in the chill spring air, as she reached out and plucked a cluster of grapes off the vine. 

“I would not eat those,” Zevran said as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. “They are used for wine. They are quite sour.”

Raven ignored him and popped one in her mouth. The moment she bit down, a sweetly sour taste burst across her tongue. Her face scrunched up as the sour taste grew. Zevran chuckled when she made a weird face and shuddered. 

“Sour, no?” 

Raven nodded her head and popped another in her mouth. There was something about the taste of the grapes that made her want to keep eating them, even if they were extremely sour. It was a sharp taste that kept her mind focused on it, on the present. Two different people. Two different memories. Yet they were one and the same. 

“Why do you keep eating those?”

“I don't disappear."

“Que?”

Raven stopped at the edge of the vineyard and pointed to the ground. “I stay here," she said, though it was hard to understand as she continued to chew, forcing her mouth to stay close. 

“Si, we are here...and we need to get up there,” Zevran said pointing to the top floor of the villa. “Está bien?”

Raven searched his face, what she was looking for she had no clue. But rather than focus on it and why, she motioned for him to lead the way while she popped the last of the grapes in her mouth. Raven ignored the look on Zevran’s face and followed him to a low window. He jimmied the lock, and the two of them slipped inside. 

“A moment,” Zevran whispered as they exited the room. “Unless you wish to alert the manor of our arrival, I would not go up the main stairs.” 

Zevran instantly regretted his actions when he felt her go tense in his grip. His grip had not been hard or forceful. But the demons of her past were still close.

“Lo siento,” he whispered as he released her arm. “There is a side passage that leads to where we need to go. Come.” 

The hidden stairs were dark and narrow forcing Raven to cling to a strap on Zevran's armor. They needed to slip in and out unseen, otherwise she would have used an orb to better light her path. As it were they had to go at a slower pace because Raven was so blind in the dark.

But it wasn’t just blindness that hindered Raven’s step. The quiet that came with the pitch black of night always brought out the worst. A cold, dank feeling settled over her as the memories pulled at the edge of her mind. 

_They are not real. I am in Antiva City. The Circles fell six months ago._

Over and over Raven chanted this mantra under her breath, like a prayer to Gods that no longer listened. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, and the moonlight shined in through the small window, Raven knew Zevran could feel her entire body shaking. Whatever he saw on her face either answered his unasked questions or told him it was best not to ask.

A few moments later, Zevran opened the door and motioned for her to follow. She drew upon her mana, and shrouded them in a barrier that shielded them from view. None-save them-were awake at this hour, but Raven couldn’t be too sure. There was something different about this job, something that made the air feel strange. She didn’t know if it was residual hurt leftover from Sparrow or if there was something in the villa that was making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end...or worse, the feeling was entirely in her mind. 

Whatever it was, Raven opted to keep it to herself. Zevran didn’t seem to act as though there was anything out of the ordinary. They found the room with ease, one of the keys Sparrow had stolen granting them entry. 

“Wait,” Raven whispered. “Something’s not right.”

Zevran stepped to the side as Raven stepped forward and raised her hand. A weird, sickly feeling washed over her as her fingertips brushed across the wood of the door. In their wake, portions of a glyph illuminated, shimmering in the dim light. 

“There is a glyph of warding, meant to deter any who aren’t the caster.”

“There isn’t supposed to be a spell locking the door.”

“This is recent. Hasty…sloppy.”

Zevran made a thoughtful noise as he looked down at her. “Can you open it?”

Raven drew the dagger at her waist and slashed the palm of her hand. A familiar presence deep within her started to stir as she pressed her hand against the door. Slowly the invisible glyph started to appear as her blood raced along its lines. A faint light rippled down the serpent's body tattooed on her right arm, disappearing under her clothes. It was a tingly, warm sensation that sent a shiver down her spine as it followed the tattoo down her back and to her right hip. 

“You are full of surprises,” Zevran muttered as there was an audible click and the door swung open.  
He brushed past her into the room, weapons drawn. It was an inconspicuous office at first glance. But the dried bloodstain on the carpet told a different tale. 

“We shouldn’t linger,” she muttered.

Raven knew without a doubt the sickly feeling was not in her mind, but a result of whatever magic had been cast here. If it weren't for the prospect of the secret tomes being more than what Natalia and Gabriella suspected, Raven would have left. 

“Si. I feel it too, pequeña cuervo. You came for books, no?”

“Yes.”

If she had been of a mind to look at him, she would have seen the amused smirk. Something pricked the edge of Raven’s mind. There was something out there. What, she didn’t know. But it gave her the same sickly feeling as the door. Raven’s gut told her to run, but her feet carried her to the door. Carefully she peeked her head out, trying to see down the dark halls.

A low growl came from the servants' stairs, whatever it was closing in on them. Before she could see it, Raven closed and sealed the door with a layer of ice. 

“We need to leave. Now.” There was a panicked edge to her voice as she backed away from the door and drew upon her mana. “Something is hunting us...and I don’t think it’s from this side of the Veil.”

“Mierda,” Zevran cursed. “I need to find the documents. How much time can you buy me?”

“It depends on what is on the other side of the door.”

“A demon is a demon, no? They all die the same.”

Raven opened her mouth to argue, but there was a scratching on the other side of the door. It chittered and growled, Raven’s stomach churning at the sound. She knew the demon that was on the other side, most likely in the body of whoever’s blood was drying beneath her feet. Knuckles cracked and popped as the creature pressed against the door. Silence fell when it fully sensed Raven. Memories that were once locked away began clawing their way to the surface, as the demon tried to root itself within Raven's mind. It would have succeeded if the smell of sweat, leather, and sandalwood didn't waft across her nose. The muffled cursing of Zevran drew her attention from the door. 

“It’s fear.”

“Que?”

“The demon. I cannot fight it. We need to go. Now.”

“Un momento. I am close.” 

Zevran sat crouched behind the desk, a set of lock-picking tools laid out on his thigh. Raven swore a slew of elvhen curses and thickened the ice on the door. It would buy them a few more minutes.  
The click of the lock was drowned out by the groaning of ice as the demon pushed against the door. Zevran yanked the drawer open and grabbed the stack of papers. He saw a book similar to the one Raven found the other night, along with a smaller one tucked in the back. He grabbed those as well and tucked them into the inside of his vest. 

“Come pequeña cuervo.”

Zevran yanked the window open and climbed out. The stone of the villa was just rough enough Zevran could climb down just enough to where the fall would not injure him. Once on the ground he made for the safety of the vines, stopping to make sure Raven followed. The flapping of wings heralded her arrival as she shifted back to her human form close to him. 

“Did it break through?” Zevran asked as he looked up at the open window. 

“No. I put the desk in the way, and left something behind”

Zevran opened his mouth to ask, but the explosion and blood curdling scream answered those and brought forth even more.

“Magic.”

Zevran hummed and followed behind, their leisurely pace from earlier gone. They half-jogged back to the entrance of the city, Raven lagging farther and farther behind. The months of training with Gabriella didn’t give her the stamina to make it back. Her body was still too weak. Once inside the city walls they ducked down an alley and Raven collapsed on a crate. She was light-headed and she felt like a newborn halla trying to stand. Zevran was only slightly better. He slid to the ground opposite her, his back against the wall. The silence stretched, only the sound of their heavy breathing heard. 

“Pequeña cuervo.” Zevran reached into where he had stashed the books and handed them to her. “Your payment.”

Gone was the haggard, exhausted look. Raven’s face lit up with barely concealed glee as she took the books. Her gaze was drawn to the one whose twin she had in her bag. Raven opened it and cursed when she saw it written in the same code. 

“It is the same as the book in your bag, no?”

“Yes. Who...whoever wrote it hid it...didn’t want anyone to know. Without the key it’s useless.”

“Those are your notes.”

“Mm-hmm,” Raven nodded. “I’m going in circles. I just need a piece...a single thing, and I can figure it out.”

“Check the binding,” Zevran sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall.

“There’s nothing there. It’s just leather and runes.”

“Ahhh, but you are thinking like a mage.”

Zevran held out his hand, waiting for her to give him the books. A few seconds later, the weight of both bobbed his outstretched hand. He set the one he found this evening in his lap and turned his attention to the other. Zevran thoroughly inspected the outside of the book, looking for any sign of an alteration in the binding. He flipped open the back cover and ran his hand across the inside. 

“It was right under your nose, pequeña cuervo,” Zevran smirked. “Mages…always want to make things so complicated.”

"We like to keep our research hidden...a 'fuck you' to whomever finds it."

Zevran chuckled as he drew a thin dagger from his boot and slipped it under the paper on the back cover. Slowly he slid it along, separating the colored paper from the back cover. Once the two were separated, Zevran resheathed his dagger and grabbed a small slip of paper. 

“See?” 

He held the paper out, pinched between his index and middle finger. Raven reached out and snatched the worn paper from his fingers. 

“By the Ancestors!” She breathed. “It is!”

Zevran chuckled and pulled himself to his feet. He knew if he didn’t move, he’d soon be asleep. His younger days were behind him, and sleeping against the wall in an alley was apt to aggravate aches he normally was able to ignore. 

“It is almost dawn. Come.”

Raven silently took the books from his grasp and followed at a slower pace, her legs still shaking. With a barely mumbled goodbye she left him on the street and disappeared inside. Raven didn’t see the amused look on Zevran’s face while he waited on the street. 

“You two are late,” Gabriella said as she came out the door Raven had disappeared into. 

“We ran into a demon.”

“I am not surprised. He has become more paranoid as of late. I had a suspicion he was using some sort of magic.”

Zevran leveled a look in her direction as he pulled out the stack of papers. “A warning would have been nice.”

“We did not know for certain. But that is why I sent her to aid you instead of Sparrow. How did their meeting go?”

“As well as you would expect,” Zevran commented wryly. “Sparrow hurled insults, and pequeña cuervo shut down.”

“Pequeña cuervo?” Gabriella asked, quirking her brow.

“She has yet to tell me her name,” Zevran chuckled.

There was a moment of silence before Gabriella snorted and glanced back at her home. “I doubt she will readily tell you. Natalia has told her to never tell you her name, because you will try to sleep with her.”

“Mierda,” Zevran swore. “Your wife has a rather low opinion of me, no?”

“She is just very protective of bichito...much like you are of Sparrow. As much as Sparrow is unnerved by her, I think she will be the key to finding out what drove Sparrow to Antiva.”

“If Sparrow doesn’t try to kill her first,” Zevran sighed.

“Then I highly suggest you tell your little ward that if she intentionally harms a single hair on bichito’s head, I will personally return the favor tenfold.”

There was a moment of tension between the two rogues, each knowing the other would go to whatever lengths to protect the mages they loved. Zevran raised his hands and backed away. 

“I will tell her, Gabriella.”

Gabriella watched him leave before she disappeared back inside. The contents of the papers could wait until morning. She stowed them in an enchanted chest at the foot of her bed and slipped back under the covers, curling around Natalia. 

It was in the early hours of dawn when Raven finally found sleep. The two books were open on her desk, notes scattered everywhere. The key Zevran had found had been pinned onto the wall, for fear she would lose it in the mass of papers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to faerieavalon on tumblr for help with the elvhen. <3

Translation of the enchanted books was proving more difficult than Raven had initially anticipated. The key Zevran had found that night was but a piece of the whole. When she realized more was needed, she nearly threw the books in the canal out of frustration. But stubbornness and curiosity stayed her hand. 

It was why she was sitting atop the roof of the Chantry, witching hour fast approaching. Though her bed had beckoned her as she left, Raven's mind was too chaotic for sleep to come. So she wandered. It allowed the night to swallow the cacophony the day had left behind. 

"I wonder what could have pequeña cuervo out so late? Oh let me think...Murder? Burglary? A secret lover?...or has my crucial help in cracking the code deemed me worthy of a reward?" 

As if out of thin air, Zevran appeared and the quiet was gone. But unlike the night they had last met, she was not spooked by his sudden appearance. His entrance was less flashy, quieter than the woman named Sparrow. It should have spooked her just the same. All things spooked Raven if she did not see them coming, and she rarely did. 

But not him.

_Curiouser and curiouser._

"A-uh r-reward?" Raven stammered as he settled close to her. 

"Do I get to decide which? What should I choose?" Zevran leaned back and folded his arms in front of his chest, an index finger tapping his chin. "Poison? Weapons? A kiss?"

Raven knew if she looked in a mirror, her eyes would be twice as big behind her glasses. At the mere mention of a kiss Raven felt her face grow hot and heat spread through her entire body. Her nervous gaze trained on his lips as a shaky hand pushed her glasses back up her nose. 

"Ahh," Zevran sighed with a smirk as he sat back, putting space between the two of them. "No kiss."

"If-If you can guess my name I will."

For a moment Zevran thought he had heard wrong when the words left the mage's mouth. He could only stare for several seconds while his mind recovered. Though he had known her a short time, such a statement was the last thing he had thought to ever hear from her. 

"I will admit…a curiosity," she muttered as the silence stretched. 

“You are curious about many things, pequeña cuervo,” Zevran mused. Each time he pushed a little farther, he expected her to retreat. But time and time again what he expected and what she did were hardly one and the same. It was quickly becoming a growing fascination for him. 

“I...yes. I have been told that a lot. Ir abelas,” she muttered as she ducked her head. 

Her fingers plucked embroidery on the front of her dress. The fabric was light and breezy, more of her pale skin revealed than when she was in her light armor. Zevran found himself somewhat shocked to see almost as many tattoos on her body as were on his. Though where she lacked in number, she more than made up for in size. Little symbols and runes covered her fingers and back of her left hand. What drew his attention most was the serpent tattoo. It seemed almost alive, its head almost as big as the back of her hand. It extended up her arm and over her back, disappearing under the back of her dress. The jittering of Raven’s legs revealed the slits that travelled up the sides of her dress. The overlapping fabric of the front and back panels hiding it unless the wearer was moving. A thigh, covered in an equally impressive tattoo peaked out and drew Zevran’s eye. He found himself wondering what other things the mage was hiding under the dress. 

“Why are you sorry?” Zevran finally asked, stilling her movements. 

Raven wrinkled her brow as she looked over at him. It took a moment, but her gaze eventually met his. It was the first time she had truly looked at him. The little flecks of gold in his eyes reminded her of the sails on the clan’s aravels. For a moment she found herself falling into a memory of a happier time, when life was more simple. 

“Your eyes remind me of the aravels.” 

Her voice was breathy and light, a small smile softening the sharp angles of her face. Yet another thing that drew Zevran in. He could not deny her unconventional beauty and his growing physical attraction to her. There was something about the mage that had hooked him that first night, wholly unlike anything he had felt in the past. A voice in the back of his head told him the path he was heading down was dangerous. But his curiosity needed to know more.

“Hmmm?” He hummed, shifting a hair closer.

“The...the aravels,” she began. “Most clans dye the canvas of the sails to better blend...to make it harder for humans to spot them in the distance. But my clan...we didn’t. Each was...each different from the last.”

Raven pulled upon her mana, bringing her memories to life. A mosaic of colors flowed around them, like they were rocks in a river. She closed her eyes, her mind focusing on memories of the sails during the bright summer days. Raven could almost trick herself into thinking she heard the groaning of the wood as the halla pulled the aravels through the forests. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to revisit these memories. In the beginning they had been too painful, each a dagger plunged into her heart. The hurt didn’t go away even years later. But it was a duller pain, time picking away at the memories. 

Zevran reached out, his touch sending ripples through the colors. Her magic rushed through him as he ran his fingers through the colors. It wasn’t harsh, like the fire and ice that some mages’ magic felt like. It was smooth and rolling, like the waves on the beach. But there was something deeper Zevran sensed if he concentrated. It was like the rumbling thunder of an approaching storm. Powerful, chaotic, waiting to break free...and he wanted to see it unleashed. 

Like her, Zevran closed his eyes as memories of his time with the Dalish came to the forefront of his mind. For a short time he had seen what it felt like to belong to something that was more akin to a family. Hands that reached out to comfort and not abuse. A feeling at the time that was nothing like he had ever experienced, and one he had not wanted to leave. But the Crows had invested too much in Zevran to let him slip away so easily. In the end, he had to leave. 

_His life for theirs._

The question was on the tip of his tongue. But he knew the moment he voiced it, the piece of her that had slipped between the cracks would retreat behind the fortress of her faraway stare. Instead Zevran tore his gaze from her and looked out at the city around him. He felt exhaustion start to seep into his bones, the heady rush of his evening in the merchant’s bed wearing off in the calm he felt in her presence. But Zevran didn’t want to leave. He wanted to see what other little glimpses he could this night, before dawn brought the city to life. But the only way the woman in front of him would let him glimpse behind the curtain is when something piqued her curiosity. The only thing Zevran knew that caused a twitch in her fingers and an excited gleam in her eye were books. He didn’t know where there were any other magical tomes. But he did know of a place with enough that at least one of them would cause the spark. 

“You have been to the Antiva City Library, yes?” Zevran asked, already knowing the answer. 

There was a small shake of her head as the colors started to fade. Part of him regretted the loss of the colorful display. But Zevran was greedy to know more.

“No. It’s only open during the day.”

“Come, pequeña cuervo.” 

Zevran stood and walked to the edge of the roof, not bothering to look to see if she was following. Raven watched him for a moment, curiosity overcoming her confusion. She scrambled to her feet, and followed him back down. Wordlessly he took off down the street, his fingers laced behind his head. Raven fell in step behind him, her eyes trained on the back of his head. She sidestepped as Zevran slowed to fall in step beside her. Still he said nothing, only hummed a tune. 

Some time later, the golden roof of the Antiva City Library came into view. It was a place Raven had wanted to go since before she had been taken to the Circle. As a child, Master Oret had told her it was a place where all knowledge was kept. No question would go unanswered within its walls. 

The old stone statues stood watch, protecting the valuable knowledge held within. Raven had only seen drawings of them as a child. But seeing the Clouded Leopards up close, she realized the drawings didn't do them justice. Her steps slowed to a stop as she looked up at them. Even in the dark, her poor eyesight saw the detail the artist had etched into the stone. She ran her hand along a paw, thinking the fur would give under her touch. The glass eyes gleaming, after countless decades. 

"I never thought I'd live to see them up close." 

All anxiety had left her body the moment she touched the statue. Even in the hidden room the first night they met, she still kept a small part of herself safe. How a Dalish elf, who was not Dalish, knew of one of Antiva’s wonders, piqued a curiosity in him that would rival even hers. 

“How do you know of these statues, pequeña cuervo?” Zevran asked as he came to stand next to her. 

“Master Oret.” There was a faraway tone to her voice filled with wonder. “He had many drawings of this place, from when he lived here.”

“Oh? Who is this man? Family? A friend? Or perhaps a lover from a long time ago?”

“He was someone I knew from another lifetime,” she said with a sad smile. 

The spell was broken and her mask was back in place. Zevran silently cursed himself for saying the wrong thing. It was not a thing he was known to do. But the woman in front of him was like none he had ever met. There had been a number of mages in his past, most of which had ended up in his bed-or on the closest flat surface-once or twice. But none like her. Even the few Dalish he had come across did not carry themselves like her. She was something entirely different, not quite belonging in any one place. 

“Would you like to see the inside?” Zevran ventured. “I hear the inside is much more beautiful than its stone guardians.”

“But it’s not open?” She looked over at him with a wrinkle in her brow. 

“True,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “But I happen to know how to pick a lock or two.”

“I...it isn’t like the places we’ve broken into. Doesn’t it feel wrong?”

“But that makes it all the more alluring, no?” 

“For you.”

“Si, and for you.” Zevran took a half step closer and leaned in close, as if to whisper a secret. “Part of you feels a rush of excitement at the thought, no?”

Despite her shaking her head no, Zevran knew he had her. There was a look in her eye when she glanced over his shoulder at the building. He knew her curiosity would win out in the end, that much he was certain. 

“Ah well,” he sighed stepping back. “You are right, pequeña cuervo. It is best to come during the day, when the city is awake.”

“I…,” her gaze flickered between him and the building, while the voices in her head warred with what was right and what she wanted to do. “Okay.”

“Bien. I know a secret entrance.” 

Zevran took off at a brisk walk, making a beeline for the side of the building. He knew the scholars of Antiva City each had their own office within the side hidden from public view. The only sign were the rows and rows of windows that seemed entirely out of place with the rest of the building’s architecture. It was just a matter of finding the right one to open. At a cursory glance, he found the one he wanted towards the back. It was a plain and unassuming window, no books, plants, or any other such trinket adorning the sill. 

With an exaggerated flourish, Zevran drew a dagger and jimmied the lock. Paint had almost sealed the window shut. But with a hard enough yank, it came open with a jerk. He slipped inside and held out his hand for Raven. At first he thought she would brush it off, as she always kept a distance between them. But he found his fingers closing around a much smaller hand and gently pulling her inside.

“You did not answer my question, pequeña cuervo,” he said as they left the barren office.

“Wh-which question?” There was a nervous edge to her voice as she regarded him from the corner of her eye. 

“Why did you apologise earlier?”

“Oh...that," she sighed in relief. "I often forget the path my thoughts go down is not the same way other people’s do...The Keeper...Deshanna, she-she would constantly tell me that I had lost her or had gone down a tangent...or I asked too many questions,” she chuckled awkwardly. "It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to someone. I forgot.”

“You talk to Gabriella and Natalia, yes?” 

“Very little.”

“Why?”

“You go so long being almost forced to do one thing it becomes second nature.”

“But you talk to me,” Zevran said, not wanting to admit how close to home her statement felt. 

“It’s strange...and curious.”

“How?”

She stopped at the double doors that separated the offices from the library. A now familiar telltale wrinkle to her brow present as the mage contemplated what to say. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it before she made a sound. Instead her hand reached up and out for him. There was a tremble to her hand that grew the closer she got. A half step closer and the tips of her fingers brushed across the linen of his tunic. It was a whisper of a touch, but it still sent a spark of desire through Zevran. He took a half step closer, her palm flat against his chest. Her hand disappeared when he covered it with his.

“It’s strange.”

A million thoughts and feelings rushed through her, growing in volume the longer she touched him and he touched her. Raven had come to loathe the touch of another person, Edgar making sure to instill that in her early. But like the night they first met she didn’t feel an aversion to the feel of him under her hand. 

“I...I don’t...the Circle.” 

Raven’s gaze flickered between their hands and his eyes. Yet another thing she is able to do with him, that she cannot with others. What it was about the man in front of her that allowed her to touch, look, and talk with only a fraction of her usual hesitation was something that both intrigued and frightened her. 

“Physical touch makes me feel sick,” Raven swallowed. “The Circle is not kind to Dalish.”

Zevran’s fingers tightened around Raven’s hand for a brief second before it loosened and slipped down to rest on her wrist. Before he even asked, Raven nodded her head. Her gaze was stuck on watching his hand slowly travel up her arm. The roughness of his hands was not unlike hands that had grabbed, pulled, and invaded one night in the Circle. But the anxiety that was slowly building, adding a raggedness to her breath, was fighting against something else. It was a tingling feeling that spread through her. 

“Do you want me to stop, pequeña cuervo?” Concern laced his voice and gaze as he looked down at her. “Pequeña cuervo?”

“I feel weird,” she finally answered. “I-I need a moment...I can’t-I can’t breathe.”

“Look at me." There was an urgency to his voice when he saw the faraway look to her eyes like the other night. “Look at-bien. Breathe with me...in through your nose and out through your mouth. Bien, just like that.”

In and out they breathed, the minutes stretching on between them. Raven’s gaze fell from his face to his collarbone that stuck out at the neck of his tunic. The red of someone’s lipstick had left a splash of color on his tan skin. It was then that she smelled it. Under the smell of sweat and sandalwood there was the distinct smell of rose. There was something else too, a headier, muskier smell that clung to him. 

“Ma Serannas,” Raven muttered as she stepped back, her arms wrapped around her defensively. 

“Do you wish to leave? We can come back another night, no?”

Raven both mentally and physically jerked herself as she remembered where it was that they were. His warm chuckle washed over her and she shook her head back and forth.

“Bien,” Zevran smiled. “Come, pequeña cuervo.”

He backed up to the double doors and reached behind him to grab each handle. Raven’s excitement loosened her death grip on her dress and brought a twitch to her fingers, that did not go unnoticed. She waited with ever growing impatience, the jittering slowly spreading through her entire body. Right as Raven felt as though she was going to explode, Zevran chuckled and threw open the doors. 

All movement within her stopped the moment she laid eyes on the room before her. Rows and rows as far as her limited eyesight could see were filled with books. The white marble of the floor was a stark contrast to the dark wood of the shelves. The smell of parchment, old books, and a blend of incense permeated the air. Raven closed her eyes and breathed deep, all tension leaving her body. For the first time in months, she looked well and truly relaxed. 

“Master Oret’s drawings don’t do this place justice...he was not exaggerating when he said a person could spend a lifetime here and still not discover a fraction of the secrets within.”

“Ah, then we better get started, no?”

“Y-yes.” Raven walked past him, the marble cool under her bare feet. 

“Where do you want to go first?”

“I uh…,” Raven scanned the first floor, a certain destination already at the forefront of her mind. “There.”

Before Zevran could blink, she had already set off in a direction, the pitter patter of her bare feet on the marble echoing through the room. He followed at a sedate pace, wanting to watch and see what new things he could learn about her. She stopped in front of what looked like a set of drawers. They were too small to be truly functional. But after a moment, she found the one she wanted and pulled it open. Little cards filled the drawer, and as he walked closer he saw a scribbling of words and numbers on each. She pulled out a few and set them on top of the stack. 

“I need…,” she muttered, walking behind the desk the librarians resided behind most of the day. 

“What do you need?”

“A moment,” she replied, preoccupied. “Fen'harel’s ass! Do they-ah, found it!” 

A crash and rustle followed her exclamation, a clear sign she found what she needed. Paper and pencil in hand, she returned to the cards and began scribbling down the information she needed. This continued for several minutes, until the front and back of the paper were filled with illegible scribbles. 

“What have you written down?” Zevran peeked over her shoulder, trying to see if he could understand what she wrote.

“Locations for books that might be helpful.”

“With what?”

“My research.”

“What are you researching?”

“Magic, dwarven enchantment, and lyrium...among other things,” she shrugged. 

As she worked her way down the list, Zevran plucked each book from her hands and added them to the stack he carried. It allowed him to glance over the titles, some of which pertained to dwarven and elvhen history. It was at the end of her list that the books piqued a question he felt he needed to voice. 

“Pequeña cuervo, what does ‘Tattooing Basics: Everything a Novice Needs to Know’ have to do with magic?”

“Everything actually,” she said as she added another book to the stack.

“You will have to explain. I don’t understand,” Zevran chuckled. 

“R-right. Ir abelas...as a mage I rely on my magic as my weapon. Buuuut,” she said, her tone dropping in pitch as she drug out the word. “That also means I need to use a staff to make my magic more focused and powerful. Without it, it goes all over the place," she gestured wildly with her hands. "It’s still strong, and a mage can fight. But we need the foci...to well...to focus it,” she shrugged. 

“I still don’t see how tattoos have anything to do with magic.”

“More than what the Chantry wants mages to know.”

When she turned her back to him, Zevran nearly dropped the stack of books. The serpent tattoo shifted on her back, a faint glow to the runes. She glanced over her shoulder and smirked behind the paper when she met his eyes. 

“By Andraste,” Zevran muttered. 

The tattoo shifted and shimmered coming to life as she held out her hand towards him. Stunned and speechless he watched the tattoo pull itself from her body. As the ink left her skin, it was no longer flat. It twisted and morphed, until a large black serpent lay coiled about her body. When Zevran stepped closer, he saw the runes still glowing under the skin, pulsating as if they were a beating heart. After a moment he reached up and ran his finger along the snake’s back. It flexed and twitched, like a snake would when touched. 

“You are full of surprises,” he breathed. 

“My babae called it an insatiable curiosity,” Raven said with a small smile. 

“Is that why you left your clan?”

The small smile faltered and fell as she looked down at the floor. “If only it were something that simple.”

“Pequeña cuervo…”

Zevran reached out, but her subtle shift away stopped his movements. Whatever door she cracked open had been slammed shut in his face. He took a step back, making eye contact with the snake. For a brief second he thought there was recognition and judgement in its eyes before it settled its body back into her skin. Any more attempts to dig deeper, push forward, would be met with nothing. His desire-his need-to know more about the young elf in front of him, had clouded his judgement. So focused on knowing her, Zevran did not see the subtle signs that what she gave him was more than any had ever received. It was only fair he should do the same.

“My mother was Dalish," Zevran said as he cleared his throat, and waited for her to look at him. "She had fallen in love with an elven woodcutter and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good.”

“Are they…”

“No. My father died of some filthy disease and my mother died giving birth to me.”

“Sildearan mar ebalal re'emma.” [[ _I feel your grief as mine._ ]]

Zevran didn’t need to know elvhen to understand what was said. It was written all over her face. Whatever had happened in her past was not unlike his own. Hers wasn’t a face of pity, but understanding. 

“Ah compassion and beauty both in the same woman. It is a delight, truly, though what you say is unnecessary even if it is appreciated. My story is no different than the other whorehouse boys, if it is true.”

“I...it...it’s still,” she stopped, brow wrinkled, as she tried to figure out what she was trying to say.

“Surely your life has not been so idyllic? People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment, after all.”

“But has yours known any happiness?”

“For a time, when I was younger and still lived in the whorehouse," he shrugged. "I ran away and joined a Dalish clan when it drew near Antiva City, once. Naturally the reality did not live up to all the fantasies I had constructed as a boy.”

“Is that why you left?”

“The Crows managed to track me down and convinced me to return to Antiva City.”

“That sounds...my life for theirs,” she muttered to herself, her brow furrowed. 

“Ah, it seems our pasts are not as different as one would think, yes?” 

There was a flash of something in Zevran's eyes, too quick for her to see even in the best of light. More and more Zevran felt the invisible pull towards the small elf. He knew he desired the woman. Any other time he would have fallen into bed, against a wall, on a dresser, and many other interesting places with her if she were anything like his past lovers. But as he was quickly learning, she was unlike anyone he had ever met. 

"So it would seem.”

Songbirds from the courtyard outside heralded the coming dawn. The remaining books had been found, and all sat neatly stacked on the counter. Amused, Zevran watched as she disappeared behind it once again seeming to look for something. Incoherent fragments of her mumbling were heard over the racket she made as she searched. 

“What are you looking for, pequeña cuervo?” Zevran leaned against the counter, the top of her head barely visible. 

“A thing...metal thing, with ink,” she said, raising her arm above her head and making a weird almost stabbing motion. “They use it when someone wants to check out a book.”

“Why do you need that?”

“Because…” Her head popped up over the counter and looked up at Zevran. “I can’t just take the books. I need to check them out.”

There was a pregnant pause before Zevran threw back his head and laughed. She pulled herself up and leaned over the counter. Her hair was awry and there was an angry gleam to her eyes. As his laughter died down, Zevran regarded her with unguarded interest. In a split second, he had leaned down far enough he could feel her breath on his skin. 

“You are a very strange woman,” Zevran purred. “I long to kiss you.”

Twice in one night, Raven felt heat all over her body at the thought of him kissing her. Her gaze flickered down to his mouth, his usual smirk in place. The thought of them against hers was both an intriguing and fearful thought. The last time he had touched her she had fallen into an anxiety attack, and that was just from his hand upon her arm. A kiss is closer, more intimate. But it was something Edgar never did. 

“My name…”

“Will you tell me your name now, pequeña cuervo?” Zevran hummed leaning a hair closer. 

He had tilted his head to the side, as if he was going to kiss her. But stopped, prolonging the turbulent feelings within her. As the silence stretched, Raven felt her body becoming not her own. But it wasn’t like before, when she would retreat into the recesses of her mind. This was something else. A restless, hot energy that urged her to close the distance and take what he offered. The chiming of the hourly bell broke Raven’s trance, her mind crashing back to reality. 

“You have not guessed my name,” Raven said as she straightened, shaking the weird feeling from her head. 

“Ah, you have not forgotten I see. A shame,” he sighed. “I was hoping for a goodnight kiss.”

“I’m sure whomever left that lipstick stain on your collar will be more than willing to kiss you goodnight.”

Zevran chuckled and plucked the metal device and inkwell Raven was looking for off the end of the counter. He slid it over to her, his grip firm until she met his gaze. Again he moved closer, but it was just a fraction from before.

“Perhaps. But they are not half as alluring as you, mio caro.”

“W-well you’re...you’re only saying that because I won’t fall into bed with you as easily as the others," she rushed, feeling the heat growing on her face.

“Si, and it is maddening.”

“This doesn’t happen to you often, does it?” 

Raven grabbed the device and after a few adjustments dipped one end of it into the inkwell Zevran opened. 

“No, very few have refused my bed,” he chuckled. 

“Natalia said as much the other day.”

“Ah.” Understanding dawned his face as he watched her. “It is no secret Natalia has no great love for me.”

“Why does she not like you?” Raven paused, looking over at him.

“I killed her brother many years ago.”

“That would certainly warrant her hatred,” she hummed with a small nod of her head. 

“Oh? What’s this? Do you not have something to say to the man that killed your friend’s brother?”

“Why would I?” Raven shrugged. “You did not know his family. The Crows taught you not to care about such things...to liken them to a pig fit to be slaughtered.”

“You...you are right,” Zevran said with a strange look on his face. 

“You were taught to kill the pig...I was taught I was the pig.”

Dawn was peaking over the tops of buildings, when they finally left the library. The walk was slow. Exhaustion and something else neither could quite place between them. Zevran took the books again, tucking them under his arm. They walked side-by-side, the fabric of her dress brushing against his boot. Zevran broke the silence when they rounded the corner that housed the makeshift shop and home.

“Mira.”

“No.”

“Ellana.”

“No.”

“Fiona.”

“And that makes three.”

Raven stopped in front of the side door and reached for books. Zevran turned, keeping them just out of reach. He clicked his tongue and smirked when she flashed him an irritated scowl.

“It’s unfair I only have three guesses, no?”

“Tonight,” Raven sighed. 

“Do I get a hint?”

“That would make it too easy...besides you’ll soon realize there are prettier and far more interesting people, and receiving a kiss from me will no longer hold its appeal.”

“But you are a beautiful and fascinating woman, caro mio.”

Zevran tightened his hold on the books when Raven tried to grab them. She paused, her gaze focused on the books. A second later, she yanked them from his grip and stepped back. There was a stiff set to her shoulders as she stood there. Whatever ease that had been between them was gone in an instant, when her eyes glanced up at his. 

“Don’t tease me. I know what I look like.”

Zevran opened his mouth to argue, but the door was open and she was inside before he could even take a breath. He stood there, confused and stunned, until the sound of the door opening minutes later snapped him from his thoughts. She stood in the small opening, the majority of the door hiding her body. 

“On nydha,” she said quietly. 

“Buonanotte mio caro.”

Relief was written all over his body at her small smile. Zevran knew that what he said upset her. But he didn’t know why. There was a sickening feeling that was growing within him, not unlike what he felt the night he had helped slay the Archdemon. 

“Umm…” She shifted her body from one leg to the other, her gaze flickering between him and the ground. “If you have any more jobs, I’ll...I can help.”

With that simple sentence, the cold, dark feeling within him disappeared. He gave her a small nod as she closed the door. At the click of the lock Zevran spun on his heel, heaving a sigh of relief. With his fingers laced behind his head, he made his way back to his apartment, a mental list of any and every name he could think of filling his brain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this chapter is A LOT/has some heavy topics.
> 
> Violence  
> Gruesome character death  
> Implied reference to past abuse
> 
> Consolation prize though is a huge peek into Raven's past, so there is that. lol

The midnight adventure to the library had become a weekly routine for the two of them. At first Raven had tried to get in herself with her own dagger and magic. But she lacked the finesse Zevran had that only came from years of practice. When she admitted this the next time she saw him, his laughter and teasing smile stirred the heat within her that was slowly becoming a regular occurrence any time he was near. Once or twice during their weekly library run, Raven thought about asking Zevran what the feeling meant. But a small voice inside her head stopped her each time. 

Although the voice didn’t let her ask aloud, did not mean she didn’t try to find out in her own way. Each night he’d be able to touch her a little longer than the last. Zevran learned Raven’s silent tells quickly, and knew when she was at her limit even before she did. It was another thing in a growing pile of little things Zevran did for her that added to Raven’s confusion. She knew others in her situation would react differently, and saw as much one night when he was walking her home from the library. 

He had led them down a different route, assuring Raven the detour was safe and worth it. Zevran had taken her to a bakery off the beaten path, hidden down an alley. Inside the woman had immediately fallen for his charm, all but throwing herself at him across the counter. It was both amusing and intriguing to watch, and Raven wanted to ask the young woman why she was behaving the way she was for academic purposes. But the second the woman laid eyes on Raven, it was an all too familiar reaction. Fear, revulsion, and accusations of being an abomination were hurled at her face. Like with Sparrow, Zevran was quick to defend, much to the woman’s dismay. Raven truly did feel bad for the woman. Hers was a face that made even the hardiest of Templars pause. Why he was the only one who ever treated her like she wasn’t some broken thing or abomination was a question that plagued her until she had no choice but to force it out, lest it eat her alive.

They sat atop a roof across from Nicola Abatantuono’s home over a week after the baker’s wife incident. She was the daughter of a wealthy banker, who had grown close to Emilio Salvatici as of late. Gabriella hired Zevran to find out what caused the blossoming relationship, and kill her if necessary. Something was growing, festering in the underbelly of Antiva City, and Gabriela wanted to find out. As did the anonymous patron who communicated via letter and paid in jewels. 

“Why are you nice to me?”

Zevran quirked his brow and looked down at the side of Raven’s face. “Why shouldn’t I? Am I supposed to spit in your face and call you an abomination?”

“It’s just…” Raven chewed her lower lip, biting off the dead skin. “I have nothing of value to offer…and if...and if this is because you only want into my bed...I’d-I’d rather you stop.”

“Do you think so little of me to think I would only be nice because I wanted something?” 

His face fell when Raven turned and looked at him. A sick feeling settled in her stomach when she realized after a moment that she had misread the whole situation once again. “Zevran I-” her hand reached out to touch his in reassurance, but stopped. Raven wanted to close the distance and touch him, but pulled her hand back at the last second. 

“I misread things again, when you have been nothing but kind to me. Ir abelas,” she said quietly, ducking her head down.  
“Does my flirting bother you? I have no wish to make you uncomfortable.”  
“It’s not that. I just-I just want to know why. It’s not something I’m used to,” Raven muttered, picking at one of the leather strips of her armor that protected her lower body. 

“Hmmm,” Zevran mused, tapping his chin. “I’ll tell you for a hint.” 

“I-” Raven glanced at him, her mouth snapping shut. She wracked her mind to come up with some sort of clue that wouldn’t end the game she had quickly come to enjoy. “I was born in Ansburg.”

“That is not much of a hint,” Zevran remarked with a wry twist to his mouth. 

“Oh but it is,” she chuckled, catching his smirk. “It rules out names from any of the other nations and the Dalish.”

“You are so cruel,” he sighed dramatically, placing his hand over his heart. “You take great pleasure in teasing and tempting me to the point of frustration, no?”

“I would say it’s more that I am not used to being treated with such open kindness,” she mused, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “And I am unable to figure out why you do it with no ulterior motives. Nat and Gab are kind. But they expect me to magically heal with their kindness...well, Nat more than Gab.”

“Mio caro,” Zevran sighed, holding out his hand. After a moment Raven placed hers on top of his. He interlaced their fingers and smoothed his thumb over the top of her hand. “We are friends, yes?”

“We are?” 

"Why wouldn't we be friends? Does the thought make you uncomfortable?"

“Most of life makes me uncomfortable,” Raven snorted. “But not you.” There was a confused look on her face as she tilted her head to the side and studied him. 

“Bien,” He smiled. “I do not do these things because I want something from you. I do them because I want to know you.”

“I don’t know why,” she muttered, looking down at their hands. “I’m not pretty like the baker’s wife. I can barely talk or look at people most days. I only go out at night because the thought of leaving the villa during the day gives me a panic attack. I’m not an interesting person.”

“You are a beautiful woman.” Zevran clicked his tongue and tugged Raven’s hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “I say you are beautiful because it is true. Should I not?”

There was a pregnant pause as Raven thought of what to say. She wanted to argue and tell him he was wrong. But she had quickly learned, when it came to how she viewed or thought of herself, Zevran was persistent in proving what she thought was wrong. If she was honest, a small part of her enjoyed causing these arguments, if they could be called that. In those brief moments of time she could see why the baker’s wife acted the way she did with Zevran. 

“I’ll admit I don’t hate it,” Raven admitted slowly pushing up her glasses, confusion wrinkling her brow. “But I don’t really know how I feel about it...other than confused.”

“Why are you confused?” 

“Because I can’t make proper sense of how it makes me feel. Is that normal?”

“From my experience, no.”

“Oh,” she muttered, her face falling.

“Pero,” Zevran added, tugging her hand again. “It is one of the many things I find alluring about you. It drives me mad I can not figure you out.” 

“And once you do?”

“I do not think that will be any time soon,” he chuckled. “You are different from one day to the next.” As if to prove a point, he held up their clasped hands, giving hers a reassuring squeeze. “Much longer than before, yes?” 

“Huh,” Raven breathed, her shoulders slumped for a second before she straightened and turned to face him, her knee pressed against his thigh. “Curiouser and curiouser.” 

“Hmmm?” Zevran hummed, the almost seductive purr of his voice dampened by the curious quirk of his brow. 

“It’s something my father would say when he stumbled upon something interesting,” she muttered, as if thinking aloud. 

Raven pulled their clasped hands over to her, and removed his glove. Both of hers quickly joined his in her lap, as her concentration shifted to focus solely on his hand. Zevran held his hand open and relaxed, letting Raven do with it as she pleased. She cradled it in her hands, her thumbs rubbing circles on his palm. 

Zevran watched, a tumult of emotions circling within him. Curiosity, amusement, and arousal were as familiar as breathing. This was a strange and warm, almost nervous feeling that grew the longer she held his hand. In the past, the little exercise that neither and both invented would have ended long ago. But tonight it seemed as though the anxiety that was her constant companion was all but gone, or buried by her curiosity and something else.

Zevran moved his hand, tangling his fingers with hers and brought it closer to his face. His other tugged the sleeve of her tunic. He kissed the underside of her exposed wrist, feeling her thrumming pulse against his lips. Her sharp intake of breath brought an almost predatory smile to his face. If she were any other person Zevran would have pushed farther. But he knew even this had the potential of being too much. A quick glance as he righted her sleeve assured him it wasn’t the case. There was a flush to her cheeks, her surprise almost masking the yearnful curiosity. Zevran knew the moment her curiosity turned physical. Her gaze fell to his lips, her tongue darting out to moisten hers. The smallest of tugs brought her closer, his free hand tilting her face up towards his with the bump of his index finger. He felt her anxious breath on his face, her pulse thrumming under his fingers as he leaned in.

“Ahhh,” he sighed, leaning away at the last second. “That’s right, I must guess your name before a kiss...Ada?”

“Huh-uh?...N-No.” She blinked, as if snapped from a daze 

Confusion and disappointment were written clear as day on her face as she sat up, her gaze sliding past him. Though his body screamed - an almost painful want - to know the feel of her breath against his skin, the sounds she would make as his hands explored, he stopped. Zevran saw it lurking-hidden to those not trained to read even the smallest of facial changes-behind the newly awakened desire. 

_Fear._

But it wasn’t just the fear lurking in recesses of her mind that stopped him. The kiss would have changed the tempo of the strange little dance between them, and he was afraid to lose it. It was new compared to anything else he has ever had in his life. The desire he felt was familiar, but different than what he felt for his string of random lovers. He didn’t feel for her what he felt for his dear friend the Warden. It was more than that. But it wasn’t the same as what he felt for Sparrow who he viewed almost akin to family, despite what the Crows had taught him. 

The voice from his Crow training told him any romantic feelings could be manipulated and bought, that he was undeserving. There were some nights he found himself slipping back into that state of mind, the voice ringing louder in his head. But each night he spent in her presence, the voice became easier to ignore. 

Zevran plucked his glove from her lap and stood before he could rethink his decision. The lights had been off long enough in the manner that Nicola should be asleep. He waited for her to stand and checked to see she was following as he led them off the roof. All thoughts of everything except the coming job were pushed to the back of his mind. Seamlessly he slipped back into the Crow mindset, his fingertips dancing across the little vials of poisons across his waist. He knew Nicola had about a dozen people she employed as bodyguards. Most were common mercenaries, but there was a chance there could be a Crow or two amongst those numbers. The only factor he couldn’t accurately calculate was the very person walking behind him. He didn’t know how she handled herself in a fight, aside from the few times he witnessed her wield her magic. But Gabriela wouldn’t have sent her if she didn’t think the elf could do a better job than Sparrow. 

“Will Sparrow be joining us?” 

Even without glancing back, Zevran could picture the apprehensive look on her face. “No.” He felt a twinge of guilt at her audible sigh of relief. “Sparrow...she has lived a troubled life, and has many fears.”

“Why is she afraid of magic?”

“Ahh, that is something I can’t tell you,” Zevran said, glancing back. "If you truly wish to know you could ask her." He led them to the back of the house, lockpicking tools in hand when he crouched in front of the door. 

“It’s not safe,” Raven muttered. “Fighting against who one is has catastrophic consequences.”

Zevran spun around and looked down his nose at her. “What are you trying to say?” He felt a twinge of guilt as she stiffened, her gaze trained on the center of his chest. But he did not want her to speak aloud the fears he had kept hidden. 

“I’ve seen it before,” she said quietly, pushing glasses that had slipped from the sudden stop back up her nose. “She will become an abomination.”

“You say that as if that is all she is. Does this mean I am nothing more than a Crow? Hmm?” 

“It’s not the same,” she said quietly, taking a half step back.

“Enough!” Zevran snapped, louder than he intended. “Do not make assumptions because of what the Circle has done to you, and others.”

“Ir abelas,” she muttered looking down. 

Zevran’s shoulders slumped when his reaction was harsher than necessary. He reached out to her but her small step back stayed his hand. Cursing silently, he pocketed his tools and opened the door. “Andiamo,” he said quietly, slipping inside. ”We need to find the guards first. Stay behind me.”

Raven silently berated herself and followed behind Zevran. Once again if she had been a normal person she would have been able to say what she had meant, without it coming across the wrong way. But yet again she spoke without thinking. Aside from the first night they met, Zevran had never reacted negatively towards her. He had been nothing but patient and kind with her. And what did she do? She all but told him his ward was going to become an abomination if she didn’t accept her magic. It’s no wonder he reacted the way he did. 

_You’re such a fuck up. It’s all your fault._

Over and over she chanted the mantra in her head, mouthing the words. Her fingers picking at the skin around her nails until they bled. But still she picked and chanted, her mind zeroing in on the mistake and shutting everything else out. 

“Pequeña cuervo,” Zevran muttered, his hand closing over hers. 

Raven stopped and looked up, almost dazed. She furrowed her brow when she met his gaze, unable to tell what he was thinking. He looked as though he was about to say something, but movement at the landing above drew his attention. The look she saw was one she recognized. Gone was Zevran and in his place was the Crow. Raven drew one of her batons and pulled upon her mana. The snake slid down her arm and disappeared into the shadows as the two of them moved farther into the foyer. 

“I’m not surprised to see you here.” The sound of a woman’s voice brought their attention to the top of the main stairs. Nicola stood at the top of the landing, half empty wine glass in hand. “You made quite the mess at Emilio’s villa. Nearly killed his new pet, or so he tells me. Do with the woman what you will. But bring me Zevran alive.” Nicola finished the rest of her wine and set the glass on the railing as she walked away. 

Raven glanced around, not sure which ones were Crows - if there were any - in the dozen men that started to surround them. Knowing if they were Crow or not meant very little to her, a weak mind was a weak mind. All that mattered was how quickly she could move. She took a calming breath, pushing everything to the back of her mind like Gabriella had taught her.

“Don’t move,” Raven whispered, a steely edge to her voice. “The barrier won’t be big, but it will be strong...you’ll know when to move. Also I need this.” She plucked a small dagger off of him and threw it at the closest person. It lodged on the side of his neck, the man collapsing as he gasped for air, blood gushing between his fingers. Instantly Raven felt a small rush of power and pushed it out to the surrounding men, sticking to two of them. Panic set in when they started to scream and claw at their own faces and body. 

"Oy! Pull yerself together!" A man close to them snapped. They both looked up and set upon him. One was killed before the other killed the man. 

Everyone - including Zevran - stood stunned for a split second before leaping into action. Her hand closed around Zevran’s arm as a mind blast knocked the men off balance. It gave Zevran just the opening he needed, two daggers thrown effortlessly, lodging in two men’s eye sockets. One of which belonged to the crazed man. 

“Eight,” Raven muttered, needing to keep count for her own sake. Another frozen and shattered to pieces at the snap of her fingers. “Seven.” 

She had focused too much on the man who shattered, she did not see the one who approached from her side. But Zevran did. He wrapped his arm around her waist and spun them out of the way of the man’s maul. It slammed down with enough force to shatter the marble, sending a chill down Raven’s spine. If Zevran hadn’t moved them, she would have been dead. As it were, she was at the exact distance needed to reach her baton out and touch the man’s chest. The metal was the perfect conductor to amplify her lightning, knocking him back into the wall. Zevran spun them around, swapping their positions, and drove his sword into the man’s chest. 

“Six,” Zevran smirked, glancing at her. 

He spun her away from him, raising his sword to block another. A current of lightning paralyzed the man for a split second, allowing Zevran to drive a dagger into his neck. 

"Five," Raven muttered. 

She fade-stepped away from another, freezing the floor in her wake. It did little to slow the man, but gave Raven enough time to draw her other baton. Like the first, it was made with metal and covered in spikes. They weren't big enough to deal a killing blow. But they drew blood, which Raven needed. She glanced behind him, her eyes settling on her reflection in the mirror. The mirror shot off the wall, hurtling towards the man, at a clench of her fist. He barely staggered, it was much too light and he much too big. 

"Fenedhis!" Raven cursed backpedaling. Her hip hit a table one of the mercenaries kicked out into the middle of the foyer, hoping to hit Zevran. She stumbled and fell on her ass, looking up as the man raised his weapon. She flung up a barrier, stopping the blade inches from her face. He grunted and pushed harder, forcing Raven almost to her back. She groped behind her for a weapon. Instead she felt the cool scales of the serpent as it slithered up her hand. Its forward momentum brought one of the batons with it, the spikes bumping the tips of her fingers. 

"Welcome back," Raven panted, as it moved around her skin. A chill rushed down her spine as the serpent sunk itself back into her skin. She grabbed the weapon and rolled out of the way, dropping her barrier. The man swore and stumbled forward. 

Lightning arced from her weapon onto the man. He fell convulsing, dropping his weapon. Raven scrambled forward and grabbed his blade. It was too heavy for her to lift with one hand, forcing her to drop her baton. She staggered to her feet and raised the sword. A hard kick to the middle of her back sent her stumbling forward. 

"Are you okay?" Zevran had caught her around her waist pulling her to him, preventing her from falling. "Bien," he flashed a wolfish grin at her small nod, his eyes seeking out the remaining men. Only two remained, not counting the one seizing on the ground. 

"I can slow them," Raven panted. She pulled on her mana, focusing it on the ground below them. "But they need to get closer."

Zevran nodded and backed them up a few feet, his arm still firm around her waist. When the men stepped on the right tiles, the glyph Raven had placed lit up trapping them in place. Zevran lunged them both forward, slicing one of their heads off. He had to let her go to kill the other. But Raven hadn't regained proper footing and stumbled towards the man, as he started to break free. She threw out her hand to break her fall, only to stumble into the man. 

"I have you now, rabbit."

The man's breath smelled of fish and ale. Bile rose up Raven's throat at the smell and the feel of him all around her. She had to think quickly before he either killed her or used her as a shield so he could kill Zevran. He crushed her to him, to the point of pain. Raven grunted as she felt as though her spine was going to snap. She struggled to free her hands, only causing him to crush her harder. 

"Still rabbit, and be a good meat shield. I might even reward you with my cock once I deal with him." 

Panic started to set in, adding a frenzy to her actions. The man growled and spun her around, crushing her to him with his arm around her neck. Her airway was cut off as he lifted her off the ground. She kicked her legs and clawed his arms, trying to loosen his hold. Everything was starting to blur and feel hazy, Zevran’s voice sounding far-off. Her right hand reached up and grabbed at his face. 

The man reached over to knock her in the head with the hilt of his blade, but stopped when he started to choke. He dropped her and clawed at his throat, as if trying to release whatever was choking him. But it was too late. The serpent had slithered onto his body the moment Raven’s hand connected to his face. It slid around his neck, tightening with every coil. When the man collapsed to his knees, mouth gasping for air, the serpent slid inside. When its head was deep enough down his airway, a shimmer of light ran down the body. It fully came to life, no longer a moving tattoo. Down and down it slid, until the whole of its body was inside. 

Raven crawled away from him, coughing and gasping for air. Her ears were ringing and she felt as though she was about to faint. But she was alive. Saved once again by the demon. She collapsed and rolled onto her side, wanting to watch the man die. It wasn’t the man she wished she was watching slowly suffocate to death. But it still brought a satisfied smirk to her face. 

Zevran crouched beside her, an arm resting on each knee. “Do you want to kill him?” 

Raven looked over at him and glanced at the dagger he held out to her, pommel facing her. “No,” she croaked. “No mercy.”

Zevran quirked a brow, an obvious question on the tip of his tongue. But he shrugged and sheathed the dagger. It did not take long for the man to die, collapsing face-first onto the tile. The snake slid out of the man’s mouth at a languid pace, almost as if it was proud of what it had done. 

“Show off,” Raven muttered, holding out her hand. 

“You are a very strange and mysterious woman, mio caro,” Zevran mused, plucking her glasses off her face. “Calma, they are very dirty and need to be cleaned, unless you wish to be blind.”

Silence stretched between them, their heavy breathing filling the air. When the ringing stopped in her ears and her head no longer felt as light as a cloud, Raven pulled herself up into a sitting position. Zevran pivoted his body far enough so she could sit up, before moving back. She sat between his legs, only needing to lean back a few inches if she wanted to rest against his leg. 

“Lo siento,” Zevran said quietly, handing Raven her glasses. “I should not have yelled.”

She took a deep, steadying breath, the burn in her lungs wholly unpleasant. It was her fault this had happened, not his. He shouldn’t be the one apologizing, and yet he was. 

“It’s my fault,” she muttered, rubbing her hand around her neck. “But it’s not the same. A Crow is what you do...did? That’s not who you are.”

“Still you will not let this go?” Zevran sighed, hanging his head. “If this is because of the other night, I have no wish to fight. I will keep her away from all of this, you, while we are working together.”

“It is. But not for the reason you think.”

“Then why?”

“Because-” Raven paused, taking a deep, shaking breath. “I did and suffered the consequences.”

“I have seen abominations, and you do not look like one of them.”

“Have you ever wondered how or why my eyes look like this?” 

“You are not a spirit of Temptation sent to seduce me with promises of carnal pleasure?” Zevran teased, smoothing her hair out of her face. 

“If this is what you think Temptation looks like, I worry for you,” Raven snorted. “I got them because I was possessed by a demon when I was a child.”

Raven spared a glance over at him, expecting a dagger to the throat, hatred or revulsion on his face. But saw unease, confusion, and curiosity instead. She breathed out a small sigh of relief, and thought back to the memories she needed to tell. Raven closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What she needed to tell him were memories she had buried long before she went to the Circle. They were painful, time doing nothing to lessen her pain. But she needed to get her point across. Mages may be free, but they were in more danger than when they still had the Circles. 

“I was not born with eyes as pale as the rest of me,” she said pointing to her eyes as she adjusted her glasses. "My mother would tell me 'Giggles, do you know why you look like you do? It’s because I asked the Maker to make me a daughter as pretty as my flowers’...periwinkles were...are her favorite flower. She grew white and blue ones in a box thing she had on our old kitchen windowsill.”

“You do not have to tell me,” Zevran said softly, grabbing her hand as she lowered it. He cradled it in his, rubbing circles on her palm with his thumb. 

“It’s-It’s alright.” She took a shuddering breath, as she went down the path of these memories. “I came into my magic when I was seven. I accidentally set fire to a stack of papers on Master Oret’s desk. He was there when it happened, and said it would be our little secret. I know he told my babae not long after it happened, because after that I was never out of his sight. For a kid who would throw a fit when I didn’t get to work with him in the workshop, I threw an even bigger one when I couldn’t play outside,” she huffed a humorless laugh. “I found out when I was older we were just waiting for Bartol...his husband. He was a mage, and would have been able to teach me in private. But I was a stupid child and fucked it all up. I was having a harder and harder time controlling the little outbursts because I was afraid. I didn’t want to leave my family behind and go to the Circle. I once watched Templars kill a man outside the Chantry because he refused to let go of his son. I thought the same thing would happen to my parents.”

“Mio caro…”

“I killed a boy,” Raven blurted, her voice thick from holding back her tears. “I don’t remember doing it. One second the little shem boy was beating me with a stick. The next he looked as if a wild animal had ripped his throat out, and I was covered in blood.”

“Mierda,” Zevran breathed.

“The Keeper...Deshanna, she knew as soon as she saw me something wasn’t right,” Raven continued with a small shake of her head, sniffling and wiping the tears that started to pool. “She told my parents she had to take me for some magic ritual, because I was a special mage...which wasn’t a lie. But not what my parents thought. She took me to a place where the Veil was thin and she slipped over into the Fade while we slept. Whatever had grabbed a hold of me that day she managed to get rid of it...well...most of it. A tiny piece had stayed, like the head of a tick, growing slowly over the years. I didn’t know it was inside of me until my Harrowing...the demon-that was actually a spirit of curiosity, but everything is a demon to Circle mages,” she shrugged, her face screwing up as if she had eaten one of the grapes from the vineyard. “I was supposed to defeat...they told me that a piece had stayed. They told me that unless I bound it, one day it would rear its head again.”

“I have been inside a Circle. How did you bind a demon without blood magic?”

Raven raised the hand with the serpent’s head and wiggled her fingers, a sad smile on her face. “It was easy enough. I knew the basics on how to make the ink for vallaslins. It was just a matter of coming up with a binding ritual that I could do while it was being tattooed on me, using the blood from the ink and when I was getting tattooed...no one being the wiser.” 

Zevran opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Raven’s face scrunched up as if she had smelled something unpleasant. He teetered when Raven fell against him, with a small push from his free hand. 

“It was all my fault...my fault we had to leave our home behind, and my babae could no longer be an engineer…and my mom,” she choked, trying to hold back the inevitable. “She was-or probably still is-scared of me...and little Enan. Fuck. I just...I just...I miss them so much, and I don’t know if they’re alive.” 

Zevran cupped her face and tilted it back until she looked him in the eye. “It is not your fault, mio caro. You were a child.”

The conviction in his voice and gaze broke the dam she had built over the past fourteen years. She buried her face against his chest and cried. Sobs wracked her body as Zevran held her close. He sat down, one leg behind her and the other over hers, and pulled her close. 

His statement shouldn’t have breached the walls she had built around her. Others tried in the past, but it never worked. Yet they still fell as readily as her tears. Guilt and shame were no longer wrapped around her being, slowly suffocating her. A little voice whispering she was just a child and she didn’t know. It didn’t magically fix her. But it was a start in the right direction. She didn’t know how long they sat there, but as her tears started to subside to a choking hiccup, a hollow feeling took their place. 

It scared her, and made her cling to him harder. For so long the weight was upon her, that the feeling of it gone terrified her. It was a wall she used to protect herself, protect everyone from her. The smell of him - sweat, leather, and sandalwood - broke through the twisted anxiety that started to build. Slowly she came back down, only an occasional hiccup or sniffle of snot to break the silence. 

“Ir abelas,” Raven said quietly, her voice thick and wet. She untangled herself and yanked off her glasses. “You know her, and I don’t. I shouldn’t assume the same will happen to her because it happened to me as a child.” 

Zevran let out a soft sigh, cupping her face. He turned it towards him, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “You are not wrong, mio caro.”

“Wait...what?” Raven’s eyes snapped up to his, but was unable to see his expression. She reached her hand around and stuck her glasses back on, Zevran adjusting them as needed. 

“You are not wrong. Her magic has been different, harder to control, as of late, and I do not know what to do. She wasn’t like this when she was younger, while we were trekking all over Fereldon, and fixing one political mistake after the other, just to gather an army to stop the Blight. It was quite the run around," he remarked unamused, a wry twist to his mouth.

“I...wait, what? You helped stop the Blight?” She pulled back a fraction, disbelief written all over her. 

“Si. Is that really so hard to believe? I am more than just my ridiculously good looks and skills as a lover,” he flashed her a wolfish grin, chuckling at her snort. 

“Not hard to believe. But definitely not something I expected. Why was a kid traveling with you and the Hero of Fereldon?”

“She was with her sister.”

“Did she not have any parents to watch her?”

“Si, she had a mother, but wanted to be with her sister.”

“Hmm,” Raven hummed, seeing past what the simple statement said. “Her mother must have been truly wicked if her sister let her travel with her during the Blight.”

“Truth be told, she had several teachers. But she is a strong-willed child, and would only learn so much.”

“It’s safe to guess nothing has changed it seems?” 

“Si,” Zevran chuckled. “She is most frustrating, at times, but she is like a little sister to me.”

“I see,” Raven said quietly, glancing down. “I can see why what I said wasn’t the best. I merely meant that Mages are in more danger than when we had the Circles. Before we had the protection of the Chantry if people discovered we had magic...though the Chantry did nothing more than throw us in a gilded cage, never to see sunlight again.” 

“Ah you are right. I will talk to her.” He smoothed his thumbs across her temples, his fingers slowly getting trapped in her hair. “You are better now, yes?”

“Yes. 'Ma Serannas.”

“Bien. We still have the job to finish. Unless, you are too tired and we should go to bed?” 

“You are persistent aren’t you?” The annoyance in her tone did not match the small smile on her face. 

“One of these days you will fall for Zevran’s charms,” he chuckled leaning close. 

Raven stopped breathing, thinking he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes and waited, feeling his warm breath against his face. The seconds stretched, each one adding to the nervous and curious energy welling up inside of her. But it never came, much to her relief and disappointment. He only chuckled and kissed her temple, before standing and holding out his hand. 

“Andiamo. We need to finish before more arrive.”

“Are more coming?” Once on her feet, Raven went off in search of her weapons, grabbing any coin the men had stashed on them. 

“Nicola escaped. It is only a matter of time until she returns, with many more men.”

“She’s dead.”

“How? Neither you nor I killed her, unless Gabriella sent along a third person I don’t know about?”

“No I killed her...well the demon technically did. I sent them off in search of her when we stepped into the foyer. She should be somewhere down the hall I think?”

Zevran backed up a few steps before turning and jogging up the stairs. He didn’t even reach the top before he saw her feet poking out from the hem of her dress. Dagger in hand he approached her prone body. When he turned her on her back, he saw she had the same look on her face as the man downstairs. Zevran dug through her pockets, finding the key he needed for the safe. All that was left was getting into the vault. 

“Can you still cast magic?” Zevran jogged down the stairs plucking his dagger out of the man’s eye socket. He wiped it clean on the man’s shirt before sheathing it.

“I still have plenty left.”

“Bien,” he clapped, with an excited smile. “Now we break into the vault…Kira?”

"No."

Raven followed him down to the lower levels, clinging to his cloak in the dim lighting. He reached back and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. The vault door was tucked away in a back storeroom, the inside of the vault dug into the ground. She was to use what magic she had left to either rip the vault door out of bedrock or melt a hole large enough for Zevran to reach in and unlock it from the inside. 

“Is that?” Raven paused before rushing past Zevran to the vault door. She ran her fingers across the metal, carved rune markings marring the surface. “What...what does that say?” Raven stepped back and frantically pointed to a plaque at the top right corner of the vault door. Zevran brushed past her, giving her hip a squeeze. 

“Jakin Oret and Yeven Smith.” 

Zevran subtly tensed at the noise that left Raven’s mouth. It was a combination of a squeal and a sob, altogether something he had never heard before. He regarded her with a curious tilt of his head, backing up just far enough Raven could reach up and run her fingers along the bottom on the plaque. His hands came up to rest on the small of her back and stomach to steady her as she tried to reach up and touch it. 

“Do you wish to touch it?” 

“Yes, but I’m too short,” she growled in frustration. 

“I will lift you, yes?” 

With a gentle press to her stomach he backed her far enough away he could slip in between her and the vault door. There was no hesitation in Raven as she nodded her head and placed her hands on his shoulders. In the dim light she didn’t see the wolfish grin on Zevran’s face as he crouched, grabbed the back of her thighs, and picked her up. As he lifted her he maneuvered her legs so they were wrapped around him, her navel at his eye level. 

Raven pushed the hot feeling inside of her at the feel of him between her legs away, her sole focus on the door in front of her. It had been over fourteen years since she had seen Master Oret, let alone any of his work. She smoothed her fingers across the raised lettering, conjuring an orb of light. They were written as plain as day, each in their distinct handwriting. 

“I wonder though.” She pressed her hand against the plaque and surged her mana into it. There was a chiming noise, as if she had rung a bell. “It is.” She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling tears start to well again. A small laugh escaped as Zevran loosened his hold, lowering her down to eye level. Her eyes danced with glee.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“No it’s a very good thing...Yeven is my dad.” Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, barely keeping still with her excitement. “I can open this door easily...my dad and Master Oret had to regularly rely on things like making this vault door to fund their projects. Most of the time, they did a good job where even the Carta couldn’t even break in...and they’ve tried...a lot.” Her hands twitched on his shoulders before she pulled back far enough to gesture with one in between them, the other gesturing behind while her arm rested on his shoulder. “But there was always the random noble who would say something mean to my dad or make fun of my looks. They always got defective doors...which the Carta could break into quite easily if they had a mage with them, which they do…did. See, the insides are usually made with iron, because it’s tough and hard to break. But these doors-” she rapped her knuckle on the metal, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. “-their insides are made with dawnstone with a paper thin layer of iron. Dawnstone is brittle and easy to break when cold.”

“Ahh, then it will be easier to open without knowing the combination, no?” Zevran smiled, his gaze falling to her full lips stretched in an excited smile. 

Closer and closer she pressed in her glee, her body flush with his. The tickle of his breath on her neck and his nose behind her ear, lurched Raven forward. She smacked her hand on the metal, biting her lip from the sting. Tendrils of ice branched out from the palms of her hands, twisting and curling across the surface. As it spread, the door groaned at the invasion of the ice. Her breath coiled around her, like the winter mornings she would spend with the keeper deep in the forests. Zevran pressed his face into the crook of her neck, a shiver running down his spine from the ice at his back. Raven felt his smile against her skin when a matching shiver ran down hers from the touch of his lips against her skin. Subconsciously she tried to squeeze her thighs together, as a familiar heat spread through her. Zevran’s chuckle drowned out by the groan of the metal. She pricked her finger and drew a handful of small glyphs on the ice. 

“We need to get back, pieces may shatter when I crush it.” 

Raven thought Zevran would set her down to move back. But he carried her several feet away and turned to the side. “Are you going to put me down?”

“Would you like me to put you down?”

She looked at him for a second, not wanting to admit she didn’t. Nor did she want to think why that was either, at that moment. Instead she cleared her throat and focused on the glyphs. One hand drew upon the Fade for a barrier, the other reaching out towards the glyphs, palm facing the door. She took a deep breath and clenched her fist, the door collapsing in on itself. Tiny shards shot out and hit her barrier, sending ripples across the surface. She pulled her fist back, dragging the door out of the doorway. 

"You will give Sparrow a run for her money, with a trick like that," Zevran chuckled. 

Slowly he let her down, making sure she stayed pressed against him. Raven knew he was doing it because of how she may or may not react. At a glance, the wolfish grin and the heat in his gaze told her that whatever she did was what he expected. She knew her eyes looked at least three times as big behind her glasses, she felt hot all over, and she didn't know if the sound came from her or the groaning metal of the door as it settled. But whatever it was, Raven didn't have time to think about it as he slipped away into the vault. 

All manner of valuables were littered through the room. Numerous paintings leaned against the walls, rolled up rugs slouched in a corner, statues and trinkets on almost every flat surface. She didn’t know what Zevran was looking for, nor did she ask. Her curiosity and boredom guided her steps to what looked like an ornate jewelry box. Inside, Raven found an assortment of jewelry, most of which too big or gaudy for her taste. Nestled at the bottom, she found a ring. The once vibrant greens and blues of the beetle had dulled with age. She untangled it from a string of pearls and cradled it in her palm. It had a strange filmy texture from the buildup of dirt over the years. 

“Oh? What’s this?” Zevran purred, his breath tickling her ear. He stood close enough behind her that Raven could feel his body heat, but far enough away that from a glance she knew she could easily slip away. 

“I found it while I was waiting for you to finish.”

Zevran plucked it from her palm, giving it a cursory glance before turning his attention back to her. If Raven had thought to turn and meet his gaze, she would have seen the mischievous twinkle to his eye. 

"Mio caro," he purred. "Are you going to steal this?"

"From you or here?" 

“Oh no,” Zevran barked out a laugh. “I do not think you could steal from me, even with years of training. No, you will pick the lock to get it.”

“What lock?”

“That lock.” He gently turned her head towards the large safe in the back of the room before propelling her towards it with a gentle push. “The ring will stay in there and you will pick the lock to get it.”

“Why?” Raven turned around and found herself flush against him. Zevran faltered a half-step, his hand instinctively pressing into the small of her back. Raven clung to his armor, afraid she was going to fall. 

“Careful...unless you wish to fall for me?” Zevran’s laughter mixed with Raven’s pained groan as he set them both to rights. Again he turned and propelled her towards the safe, placing the ring inside before he closed and locked it. 

“I’ve never picked a lock before.” 

“I will teach you. It will be fun, no?”

“But my eyes…”

“You do not need to see to be able to pick a lock. What you are doing requires touch, not sight.”

“Ah. What do I do?”

Zevran grinned excitedly as he slipped around behind Raven. He pulled a couple small tools out of a pocket and handed them to her. “You need only two things to pick any lock: a tension wrench and pick. A hair pin and a small dagger will work too…put the wrench in here-,” he said pointing to the bottom on the keyhole. “-and gently turn it...bien...see how it turned more right than left?”

“Uh huh.”

“Bien. Keep the wrench pulled that way...next take the pick and feel the pins at the top of the lock.” Zevran gently wrapped his hand around hers, showing her where to tap with the pick. “Bien...feel that one?”

“Mhmm,” Raven chewed on her lower lip, a thrum of excitement rushing through her.

“Press it up slowly and move the wrench a hair…Bien.” 

Zevran glanced down at her face, his smile warming at the singular focus she had on the task in front of her. He realized at her surprised gasp, he had been touching her the entire time. It more than tripled the previous night in the library. His other hand came to rest on her waist as he leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder. She barely glanced in his direction, seeming to not care at the physical contact. He felt her excitement and frustration roll off her in waves, adding a tingling sensation to her magic that always seemed to wash over him in a pulsing wave when he was near. The audible click drew his attention back to their hands at the lock.

“Congratulazioni, mio caro.”

Her body vibrated with excitement, seemingly unaware Zevran all but surrounded her. He huffed a laugh as he reached out and plucked his tools from the lock. The door swung open, and she snatched the ring from inside. 

"Next time, you will pick the lock, yes?" He teased, his lips ghosting long her ear. "Nim?"

Raven visibly shuddered and stepped out of his grasp. "N-no...no, on both things."

Zevran watched as she all but fled from the vault, chuckling as he followed at a sedate pace. When the cool night air hit his skin, Zevran had the start of a plan to slowly unravel the mage before him. They parted ways after he watched her disappear inside the villa. But before he could even try his plan, he needed to think of something to do with Sparrow. 

He couldn’t tell her that the ‘thing’ from the night over a month ago told him that if she didn’t get a better grasp of her magic there was a chance she could become an abomination. It was a fear that had been festering in him since the night he found her in Nat and Gab’s shop, half starved and feral. She had looked as though she was a split second away from the ‘catastrophic consequences’ he had been warned about. 

It had gotten better as time passed and Sparrow started to make a life for herself in Antiva City. But the wall she had built around whatever had forced her from Orlais started to crack the day Natalia was captured by Templars. Zevran was worried Sparrow would be next, knowing full well that if she was taken to the Circle she would end up Tranquil or dead because her magic was too unpredictable. When the Circles fell, she started to regain some semblance of control. But she was just as reckless if not more than she was in the past. 

He recalled earlier in the evening, the feel of the mage’s magic pulsing against him. It was calm, controlled, whatever hidden power she possessed shoved deep down. Even when she was at her most tumultuous, it never felt as chaotic as Sparrow’s. Sparrow’s felt jagged and rough, like the wrong notes played in a piece of music. Wholly different than any other magic he had felt. Zevran was no closer to a solution when he entered his apartment. Sparrow popped out of her room, padding with bare feet across the room. Her trousers and loose tunic were askew, the noticeable beadhead telling Zevran she had fallen asleep before dawn for once. 

“What did you bring me?” There was an excited lightness to her voice as she searched all the pockets and pouches on his armor. 

Zevran chuckled, the object of her search on his pinky. “Ahh, impatient as ever. One would think you would have outgrown that with age, no?” 

Sparrow snorted, her nimble fingers dancing from pouch to pouch. “Tis not being impatient if I am also helping.” She unclasped his cloak and grabbed it by the metal eye sockets of the crow skull. “See? Oh is that it?”

Zevran side-stepped and twisted away from Sparrow, as she reached out for the ring. The little dance continued as Zev shed what remaining armor and weapons he could. Tension from the thoughts that had filled his mind on the way home washed off him with each step. He chuckled at her annoyed growl, surprised she hadn’t used her magic. As if summoned by his thoughts, Sparrow flashed a sly smile before she disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke. 

“Oh this is pretty. It looks like the Wardens’ blue.” Sparrow reappeared behind him, plucking the ring from his finger. She bit back a smile as she looked at him sheepishly. 

“You cheat.” Try as he might, Zevran couldn’t keep a straight face, his amused smile matching her own. 

“Tis not cheating if it is something I can naturally do,” she replied airly, wandering into the main room. She plopped down on the couch, sprawling out along the length of it, admiring the ring on her hand

“Mija, why do you only use your magic as some fancy parlour trick?” Zevran ventured casually. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, silently wondering if his question hit its desired target. 

“Because I have no need for anything else, compa” Sparrow yawned. “And all magic is, in the end, are fancy parlour tricks? No?” She retorted sleepily. “Only sometimes you get killed or kill people with them I suppose…” 

“Oh? You may lose your self-proclaimed title ‘Best Thief of The Age,’ if you keep refusing to use what the Maker has given you.” Zevran knew it was a weak argument. But there was a small chance a bruised ego would do the trick. 

“The Maker gave me nothing.” Sparrow snapped, sitting up. “Tis all her…” The Sparrow’s eyes were filled with old pain, and Zevran gave her a semi-apologetic nod before the young woman continued, “What bug has crawled up your arse and died? You never used to care if I practiced my magic or not.” 

“Because,” Zevran grunted, yanking off one of his boots. “Your magic has been unpredictable the past few months, no?”

“No, I am fine. I was just off that night I met that...thing,” she shuddered. “The ghostie with the creepy eyes.”

“She is a person,” Zevran sighed wearily. “But it was not just that night...there have been others you were upset and things happened, windows broke.”

“I broke the windows in my room one time! Tis not like I am making things catch on fire anymore. Improvement!” she retorted, holding up her finger and shaking it. “One time and you still will not let me live it down! I have everything under control, I swear it.”

There was a stubborn set to her jaw, Zevran knowing he would have to tread carefully. He knew there was one surefire way to convince her to practice her magic, if the possibility of losing her title didn’t work. But he didn’t want to guilt trip her into doing what he thought was best, even if it was quickly becoming his only option. 

“I worry, mija,” Zevran sighed, his gaze softening with worry. “Antiva City is no safer than Orlais. I will not always be able to hide from the Crows.”

“Not fair, you should not even speak the words. If you speak the words you will make them come true.” Sparrow threw him an annoyed look before flopping back down on the couch. The silence between them stretched, snippets of whatever she was muttering to herself drifting over to Zevran. “Alright, fine! There are conditions, many conditions do you understand?” She groaned, throwing her hands into the air before sitting up. “Condition the first, the ghostie has no business with this. I will speak to Nat on my own.” The young woman crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Condition the second, this does not make me one of them. I am not going to be like my sister and mother. I will not, compa.” Zevran nodded, agreeing to her highly specific terms. Sparrow glanced at Zevran out of the corner of her eye before letting out a long sigh. “You are lucky I love you, compa. For if it was anyone else, I would not even consider this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah...my bad >.> lol Thank y'all for the kudos and comments. They make my day. <333 I'm [cornfedcrypitd](https://cornfedcryptid.tumblr.com) <3 on tumblr.


	5. Chapter 5

The rainy season was upon Antiva, blanketing the city in a humid haze. It forced many citizens into their homes, in hopes of escaping the worst of the heat. Like them, Raven tried to escape the blanket of humidity. The hot and muggy weather was something she wasn't accustomed to, even when she lived with her clan. Her fair skin burned at the thought of stepping out in the sun. As the days progressed, she wore less and less in hopes it would help. 

"Raven, did you hear me?” Natalia asked, reaching out to tap her spoon on Raven’s arm. 

Raven jumped at the feel of the metal against her arm, and tore her gaze from the window. Their expectant looks made her tense in guilt. She had drifted off not long after they had sat down to eat, the rhythmic pitter patter of the rain against the windows lulling her into a daze. The night in the vault played over and over in her head. But it wasn't what was said that was running through her mind. All she could think about was the feel of him under her fingers, the press of his lips against her temple, the hardness of his body through the layers of their armor. 

"Ir-Ir abelas," she muttered glancing at the two women. "I...I wasn't paying attention."

"I figured as much," Natalia said with a warm smile. "What has made you so distracted?"

"Uhh," Raven glanced between the two of them unsure of what she should say. It was no secret Natalia disliked Zevran, and was sure to voice it any and every time he was mentioned. 

"Tis Zevran if I am correct," Gabriella smiled. "This is the end of the week, and you are worried the rain will prevent you from meeting him, correct?"

"Not entirely," Raven said slowly, glancing between the two. "I'm just afraid the water may ruin the books. I’m finally done with all the ones I’ve gotten over the past few weeks." 

"There should be a canvas bag in the storage room that will be of use to you,” Gabriella said over her wine glass. 

"’Ma Serannas."

There was the barest hint of a smile before Raven grabbed her plate and disappeared into the kitchen. The two women watched out the large dining room windows, waiting to see Raven cross the courtyard. 

"It appears I was correct," Gabriella hummed as she watched Raven scurry through the downpour. "Zevran has been good for her."

"I still don't trust him. How can you be so sure he won't leave her once he fucks her? Isn't that all this is for him? Some conquest…"

"Perhaps," Gabriella shrugged. 

Gabriella stood and gathered the empty dishes, Natalia grabbed the remainder and followed. Natalia had to almost scurry to keep up with Gabriella’s long stride. The taller woman slowed when they reached the door to the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder.

"But he is also not the type of man to leave before the bed is even cold, if the person was not an intended mark." Gabriella bumped the door open with her hip, and kept it pushed against the wall until Natalia passed. 

"And that’s supposed to reassure me?" Natalia snapped, dropping the dishes in the sink. 

She grabbed Raven’s clean ones and set them aside. Her movements were short and clipped as she cleaned the scraps of food off of the plates. The water was still warm from when Raven hastily washed hers, the washrag at the bottom of the sink. She rolled up her sleeves and all but dropped the dishes in the water in her annoyance. Gabriella said nothing, only grabbing the drying cloth, waiting for Natalia to hand her a dish. They stood in silence for several minutes, each knowing it was Natalia’s simmering anger that was causing the delay in conversation. After years of marriage, Gabriella had figured out how long to wait until she could make her point and avoid the worst of Natalia’s temper. 

"Because-" Gabriella started, drying a plate. "-if their relationship does in fact become physical, it will be entirely up to Raven how far and how fast they go. You may dislike him-"

"He killed Piero!" Natalia threw the knife she was washing and the rag back into the water, droplets of water and suds peppering her side. 

"Your brother was a cheat and angered the wrong Merchant Prince, and that doesn’t even touch on how he nearly destroyed the network we have built over the years...and I warned him his actions would have consequences. Zevran was only doing what the Crows required of him. We have argued about this for years, vida mía. Must we bring this into Raven as well?" Gabriella set the plates on the shelf, and drew Natalia against her. "She is getting better, and tis not because of us. Zevran was raised to be a cold-hearted murderer, but that is not who he is as a person."

"I just don't want to see her get hurt," Natalia mumbled against Gabriella's shoulder.

"Neither do I. But keeping her in a gilded cage will be no better." Gabriella ran her blunt nails along Natalia’s scalp, drawing a pleased purr from the petite woman. She gently tugged her wife’s head back, and kissed her. 

"I will still kill him if he hurts her," Natalia muttered against Gabriella's lips.

"I know, vida mía," Gabriella chuckled. She lifted Natalia and set her on the counter, stepping between her legs. “The dishes can wait.” 

  
  
  


The downpour lessened long enough around midnight for Raven to make it to the stone statues. As she hurried through the streets she briefly wondered if she should have sent a note asking if they were still meeting. But he would have told her. At least that’s what Raven told herself as she sat huddled up under one of the stone statues. The midnight bell came and went, the rain a steady drizzle through the night. By the three AM bell, Raven was completely soaked, the skin around her nails raw and bleeding as she picked them. Worry and anxiety filled her head to the point that she felt like she was about to overflow. Though the routine was new, he was always there before her, with something that would make most normal people blush and fawn on the tip of his tongue. 

Raven wondered if her non-reaction to what he would say each night was what drove him away. It had only been a matter of time in her eyes before he would grow bored and move on, even if he had told her after that first night he did not take offense. Zevran saw it as a challenge to see what would make her blush. He had assured her the other night they were friends. But that was before she had so inelegantly shoved her own foot in her mouth. If he had in fact decided she wasn’t a friend worth having, she couldn’t really blame him. Raven was a maleficar, things would be easier in the long run for him. 

A sickly, cold feeling settled over her at the thought of him no longer being in her life. Raven felt as though her heart was going to claw its way out of her chest. Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her chest, as if it would slow the hammering of her heart. A sob was lodged in her throat, growing in size with every  _ thump  _ of the back of her head against the statue. Everything started to fall away as the thought took root and spread. 

This was a feeling she had felt long ago, in that cold, dark cell. Her family was gone, no God heeded her pleas. She was all alone, broken and bleeding. The only thing that heard her hoarse screams was the Templar who responded with a smite when she had gotten too loud. 

The sound of the hourly bell brought Raven back from the recesses of her mind. Witching hour long since left, the city was starting to wake up. She scrubbed the heel of her hand under her eyes, not knowing or wanting to know if it was tears or rain she was wiping away. The bag felt heavier the walk home, the soaked cotton dress hindered her steps. By the time she made it to her room, Raven was moving by muscle memory alone. Bag and dress were discarded in a sopping heap on the middle of the floor. Her glasses set on the nightstand, the only thing she took great care of anymore, and she crawled into bed. 

Sleep eluded her as the sun climbed over the buildings and the sounds of the city drifted in through her open windows. Memories of her time with Zevran played through her mind, picking apart each and every detail she could remember. More often than not, he was the one initiating everything - from topic to touch - that didn’t revolve around a job. Raven groaned, it was no wonder. She not only put her foot in her mouth, but made everything about her. So focused on his touch, Raven didn’t stop to think if any of it was something he wanted to do. Did he truly want to know her - touch her - or was that what he thought she wanted? Was he doing this all because of what he was taught growing up? It was not unlike what some Templars in the Circle would do to Mages that had caught their eye. Each Mage believed that what they did was something they wanted, despite the disgusted feeling that would wash over them after. The thought that she was to him what the Templars were to the Mages sent a fresh wave of nausea through her. If Raven had eaten anything, she was certain she would have thrown it up.

The humidity of the afternoon made it a sticky hot, driving most people indoors. While the main source of Gabriella and Natalia's income came from black market deals, they still ran a legitimate odds and ends shop in the front of their villa. They never asked Raven to work in the front. Instead she was hidden safe behind the curtain that separated the shop from the storeroom, assisting Natalia as the older woman made all manner of potion and balms. 

Raven had gone down later than usual, accepting that she wasn’t going to get any sleep with the myriad of thoughts filling her head. Her body went through the familiar motions of grabbing various ingredients from shelves and setting them on the high table in the middle of the room. It allowed her mind to wander and mull over what she had come up with when she could have been sleeping. Raven surfaced long enough to register Sparrow and Gab’s voice in the shop before retreating back to her thoughts, climbing onto her stool. She wanted to know if Zevran was the only person or if he was the anchor that helped her change. Nat and Gab hadn’t physically touched her since Zevran. They knocked on the table, spoke loudly, and touched her with an object - usually whatever utensil they were using during their meal. Raven wanted to put the questions that were circling around in her head to the test, hoping she was right. If she was getting better, it was only a matter of time before she could brave the market during the day. Her mouth started to water at the thought of going to the market. All manner of foods were made and offered there. She would catch whiffs of the smells if the breeze was blowing just right. But most of all, she hoped Zevran would return and she could apologize for everything she was forcing him to do. 

"Is everything okay?"

Natalia's voice spooked Raven, the contents of the jar spilling onto the table. 

"I...yes? I'm…I'm not sure?"

"Why aren’t you sure?" Natalia walked to the other side of the table, her usual spot. "Did Zevran do something to you last night?"

"N-No…No!" Raven said, with a little more force than Natalia was accustomed to. The woman instantly quieted, and waited for Raven to speak. "I...I know,” Raven took a calming breath, trying to calm the anxiety from her thoughts. “Zevran isn't mean to me."

"I should hope not. He knows I'll kill him," Natalia spat. 

"Tha- that's not what I mean...meant," Raven sighed. "Zevran… he doesn't ask more from me than what I can give. He helps me feel-"

"Normal?" Natalia interrupted.

"Y-yes," Raven said with a small nod, her fingers squeezing the pot after she was interrupted. "But it's not just that. He's quiet and calm. I don't feel judged when I'm with him."

“Is everything okay?” Nat looked down at Raven’s hands, seeing a crack along the clay pot.

“Yes...wait, no.” There was a furrow to Raven’s brow and a tenseness to her shoulders that wasn’t there the last time Nat had looked. Her gaze focused on the table as she thought for a minute. 

“Raven? You haven’t told me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t like when you do that...interrupt me,” Raven paused, making herself look at Nat. “I know I take longer than some people to get my point across...that is if I know what it is I’m actually thinking. But please stop.” 

“Of course. I’m sorry if I upset you. It was...Raven?” Shock gave way to confusion as she watched Raven’s face change from nervous to confused to elated in the span of a handful of seconds. It was the most Nat had seen from the young elf in the year since she’d known her. But as soon as she saw it, Raven’s face was back to what she was used to seeing - an almost Tranquil neutrality. 

“Yes?”

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Zevran didn't come to the library last night… and I have this weird feeling inside of me when I think about it."

"What does it feel like?"

"Ti-tight?… like someone is standing on my chest?" Raven rubbed her hand over her chest, a confused look on her face.  


"Anything else?"

"Yes and no."

"What?"

"There's other things there but I don't know how to describe them," Raven said with an erratic gesture of hands. “Or if I wish to talk about them right now. I’ve done something wrong and I’m afraid I won’t be able to make amends for it.”

"Have you asked Gabriella where Zevran might be?" Natalia coughed, disguising the thickness in her voice. Twice Raven was more than she was. If she could, Nat would have hugged Raven and told her how happy and proud she was. But Nat was afraid the second she touched Raven, she would retreat back into her shell. 

"She's out there talking with Sparrow," Raven muttered. "I don't wish to have a repeat of last time."

"I see," Natalia peeked through the curtain, laying eyes on Zevran's ward. "She's a strong willed child, who lacks proper manners… not unlike her guardian."

"Zevran isn't rude."

"Perhaps to you. But that is because he hopes your legs will fall open with time."

"He's not like that."

"You don't know him like I do. He's a Crow."

"I don't know him like you because I don't see him as just a Crow or whoreson…just like he doesn't see me as a Maleficar...a freak."

"You're not-"

"He doesn't flinch when he looks at me…he never has."

Natalia's shoulders tensed, the memory of them meeting coming to mind. Like everyone else, she too had been unnerved by Raven's appearance at first sight. Even now she would find herself swearing if Raven came down the hall late at night. Natalia opened her mouth, but nothing came out. There was nothing she could say in this situation. She had been trying for a year to help Raven in what ways she could. But the couple of months Raven had spent in Zevran’s company did more than anything her or Gabriella could. 

"I don't hold it against you," Raven muttered. "Everyone flinches. He's just the first that hasn't, and it…and it makes me feel like I can be normal...and I’m worried something might have happened to him.”

“I see,” Natalia said, clearing her throat. “I’ll go out and ask. You can wait here.”

Natalia slipped out of the stockroom and made her way to Gabriella. Sparrow had departed by the time she reached her wife. 

"We need to talk," Natalia muttered. 

"A moment please, vida mía. I need to give this to Raven. Tis a message from Zevran." Gabriella gave Natalia’s arm a squeeze before slipping past. 

“A message? What could have been so important that he stood her up on their little library date?” 

Natalia’s impatient tone and reach for the letter gave Gabriella pause. “Vida mía, why are you so interested in knowing why Zevran did not show? Were you not just saying how much you despise him last night?”

“That was before,” Natalia huffed when Gabriella held the letter out of reach. 

“Before what?”

“Before Raven yelled at me earlier.”

“Yelled at you? I heard no raised voices in the past half hour.”

“She might not have yelled at me in volume. But she might as well have, with what she said.”

“What did she say?” 

“She yelled at me because of Zevran, and that I interrupted her. Careful-” Natalia pointed a finger at Gabriella, who was biting back a laugh. “It’s a bad habit and I’m working on it...but if that Crow has left because he’s grown bored of her-”

“You will have to explain, vida mía. How does Zevran having to leave Antiva City last night have anything to do with Raven?”

“He had to flee the city? Again?”

“Yes,” Gabriella chuckled. “Isabella was in the city yesterday. She found a man Zevran has been tracking for over a year-Alistair is his name I think? She told him they had to leave that night if they were to get to Kirkwall before the man left. That is why Sparrow was here. She delivered a note he had written for Raven, and assured me that even though Raven unnerves her, she will honor Zevran’s request and accompany Raven to the library once a week. She also mentioned needing to talk to you in regards to her magic. But refused to come back unless Raven was not in the shop.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Yes, no. Raven wants nothing to do with Sparrow, and I don’t blame her. And if she wishes to talk to me about her magic she can come by in the morning, Raven shouldn’t be awake until later,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

“Why are you against Raven making new friends?” Gabriella sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose knowing this was going to be a circular discussion. 

“I’m not!” Natalia huffed, crossing her arms defensively. “I’m just against her having to spend extended periods of time with someone who scares her!”

“Sparrow is just as scared of Raven as Raven is of her. They each have their own way of projecting their fear. Zevran has just let Sparrow run wild for far too long. The young woman only needs a firm hand to guide her...but we are getting off topic,” Gabriella said with a small wave of her hand. “You said Raven yelled at you because of Zevran?”

“It was the strangest thing,” Natalia said in disbelief as she leaned back against a bookshelf. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but Zevran might have been good for her. She barely stuttered or mumbled…and she had very little trouble getting her point across.”

“What else are you not saying?” Gabriella took notice of Natalia’s stiff posture the moment the topic got back on track. 

“I think she might be in love with him, but doesn’t realize it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Not once since I brought her here has she said or done anything that could potentially jeopardize her staying here. But she spoke out against my dislike of Zevran and defended him...and all but accused me of judging him just for being a Crow. And that’s not the worst part,” Natalia threw her hands in the air and started to pace in front of her wife. 

“What could be worse than that?” Gabriella bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from laughing. 

“I think he might be developing feelings for her too.”

“Again, I must ask why.”

“What other reason would he one: never flinch when she surprises him. Two: hasn’t doubled his efforts to fuck her...or three: takes her to the library once a week because he knows she can’t go out in public during the day without completely shutting down.” As Natalia paced she held up a hand counting off each point, her voice becoming more agitated by the second.

“Would that truly be such a bad thing, vida mía?” Gabriella reached out and snagged Natalia’s waist as she walked by. Gabriella pulled Natalia against her and pressed her lips to her temple. 

“Yes because he is a Crow...and this has nothing to do with my brother,” Natalia grumbled. “You know they train Crows to be killers. He will hurt her in the long run because of what he is. Do you really think he would be able to go against that and be with her?”

“I do.”

Natalia grumbled and relaxed into Gabriella’s arms. 

“Would you care to make a wager?”  


“On what?” Cautiously, Natalia looked up. She knew whenever Gabriella suggested a wager, it was because Gabriella knew she would win. 

“Zevran and Raven.”

“I’m listening…”

“I wager that within the next four months, each will realize the feelings that have been growing between them.”

“That’s hardly a bet.”

“I was not done, vida mía. I also wager by the end of the year they will be wed, in their own fashion.”

“Will you add a babe to that as well?” Natalia snorted. 

“They will have their hands full enough with Sparrow.”

Natalia paused a moment and thought over her wife’s proposition. On the one hand she truly wished Raven happiness and to be able to heal, even if that meant it was with Zevran. But on the other, she was so stuck in her belief that Zevran would end up breaking Raven’s heart in the end that she would rather sabotage what the two of them have now than see how much worse it would be in the future. 

“Alright, I’ll take that bet.”

“Good. Now, I need to deliver this to Raven. A moment.”

  
  


Gabriella cleared her throat and slipped behind the curtain. She didn't want to inadvertently spook Raven, and hoped it would be enough to attract her attention. Unfortunately - and not to her surprise - Raven was preoccupied with shredding the dry herb in her hand to tiny shreds into a small pile just shy of the intended bowl. 

"Bichito," Gabriella said quietly, knocking her knuckle on the table.

Raven jumped, the remains of the herb falling into the bowl. She blinked and shook her head, as if trying to clear whatever was plaguing her mind out. 

"Ir abelas," Raven muttered, shoving her glasses back up her nose. She glanced down and wrinkled her nose at the pile of herbs not in the bowl. 

“Would you like to talk about whatever is on your mind?” Gabriella snagged a stool and sat across from Raven. 

“No, I think I’m okay?”

“You do not sound entirely sure of that, bichito.”

“Because, I’m not,” Raven sighed, taking pinches of the herb and dropping it in the bowl.

“Is it because of Zevran?” 

Raven tensed and glanced over at the older woman. “You talked to Nat.”

“Indeed,” Gabriella hummed. “Sparrow also came by to deliver a letter.” She set it on the table and slid it over to Raven. “Tis from Zevran.”

Raven’s hand snatched the letter so fast it looked as if the snake on the back of her hand had caught a mouse. But once it was in her hand, she couldn’t bring herself to tear the seal, and just stared at the dried wax. There was a chance it was a letter telling her he no longer required her assistance, and he was ending their partnership...and subsequently their friendship. The thought sent the familiar cold chill down her spine. Raven carefully set it on the table and folded her hands in her lap. Minutes ticked by while she warred with what to do. 

“Bichito,” Gabriella said softly. “Is everything alright?”

“Huh-what?” Raven’s head snapped up, teetering on the stool. “Yes everything is okay...I hope.”

“You are concerned that Zevran might have written a message ending your professional relationship?”

“Part of it.” Raven shoved her glasses back up her nose before reaching out to pick up the letter again. “I have been thoughtless and unobservant, and did not consider his feelings in anything...or if he wished to do any of it.”

“What sort of things?”

“Trying to guess my name for a kiss. He mentioned one as a joke, I think,” Raven shrugged, smoothing her hand over the letter. “Letting me touch him whenever we are together until I can’t anymore. But on only the hand, arm, or chest though,” Raven rushed. “And he...he said we were friends. But I had all but told him Sparrow would become an abomination if she didn’t get better control of her magic.”

“Bichito, I am afraid you are in your head way too much, and have twisted things out of proportion,” Gabriella sighed, smiling warmly. “What makes you think he is doing any of those things unwillingly?”

“Because of his past.” Raven looked up at Gabriella as if the older woman should have seen the obvious answer. 

“What about his past makes you think he is doing this because he does not want to?”

“From what he’s said...or at least hinted at about his past makes it seem like it was drilled in him to do things that other people want of him or what he thinks other people want of him...and how am I any different? He would ask if I was uncomfortable...knew when to stop before I did. But I never did the same for him.”

"Bichito, allow me to put your mind at ease,” Gabriella huffed a laugh, an amused smile crinkling her eyes. “The contents of the letter are not that at all. When Sparrow delivered it earlier she informed me Zevran asked her to take you to the library on the usual nights. She also assured me that even though she is unnerved by your almost supernatural appearance, she will endeavor to be as civil as possible.”

“Mage rate,” Raven mumbled under her breath. 

“When he returns, I suggest you talk to him about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Raven rushed with a shake of her head. “I am the one at fault, and not deserving of his kindness.”

Gabriella sighed, tightening the silk scarf around her head. “Bichito, take the rest of the day. Nat and I will manage the rest of the afternoon.” She waved her hand in a dismissive manner, shooing Raven from the room. 

  
  
  


Letter in hand, Raven disappeared up to her room. It was too hot to do anything else other than lay on the tile in her washroom. The ceramic was cool on her skin. She lay with her feet on the wall, the letter propped up against her legs. Pieces of dried wax clung to the threadbare cotton dress as she slowly picked pieces off, her mind wandering. The snake tattoo shimmered and shifted, drawing Raven’s attention. 

“I don’t need you hounding me too,” Raven remarked wryly. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

The snake slid far enough off of her hand that it was able to bump the letter with its face towards Raven. 

“Ugh! Fine! I’ll read it only because you won’t stop otherwise,” Raven grumbled sitting up. She pushed the snake back onto her hand with the index finger on her other hand. The letter popped open with ease, most of the wax on her dress. “Fuck,” she muttered, letting out a shaky breath. 

_ Mio Caro,  _

_ I am saddened I had to leave Antiva City on such short notice. Isabella - the rather ravishing Rivaini pirate and old friend I have mentioned from my time in Kirkwall - brought word of an old friend, who has been eluding me for years. You would think it would not be hard to find a Grey Warden, no, he has been an elusive man since the Blight. He will know how to end Sparrow’s foolish fancy to join the Wardens, that is the last place she needs to be. There is no guarantee she will survive The Joining, many before her have died gruesome deaths.  _ __

_ Sparrow has promised me she will accompany you to the library on our usual nights, but, I did not ask her if she would allow you to touch her like you touch me. Though I have a feeling the thought of such a thing does not stir pleasant thoughts in either of you, no, but I am glad I will be the one you touch in the dark corners of the library.  _

_ Until I return, I hope to be in your dreams, especially the naughty ones. _

_ Zev _

_ P.S. You will be in my dreams, especially the naughty ones.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Feedback is appreciated <3
> 
> You can find me over at [cornfedcrypitd](https://cornfedcryptid.tumblr.com) <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note this chapter references past abuse/rape and deals with suicidal thoughts.

A week later Raven found herself sitting under one of the stone guardians. But it wasn't Zevran she was waiting for. Who Raven was waiting for was someone she'd rather never have to deal with again. But Zevran had left the city, and she had no idea when he would return. 

From the scarcity of his note, she didn't think he suspected he was going to be leaving the city this soon. Raven would have been content to wait, but the encoded tomes taunted her each day. Closer and closer she got, the author sending whomever found it down a rabbit hole of frustration. The thought of giving up had crossed Raven's mind. But like her babae, once something piqued her interest there was no stopping her. It’s what drove Raven to push past her anxiety and leave the safety of the villa, despite Natalia’s warnings and Gabriella’s reassurances. 

As if summoned by Raven’s anxieties, Sparrow appeared out of thin air at the last toll of midnight. Unlike last time, Raven was prepared and jumped only a fraction of what she did the first night. The young woman looked down her nose at Raven, impatience and unease written all over her. 

“Are you ready to go or not?” Sparrow clipped. “I do not wish to be here any longer than necessary.”

“Y-Yes.” 

Raven scrambled off the statue and trailed behind Sparrow. Like before, the young woman was clad in her armor, knives and daggers tucked away in hidden places. Compared to her, Raven felt wholly exposed in her light cotton dress. It was long and rather shapeless, minus the plunging neckline and gathering in the front above her waist. The heat of the day lingered well past sundown allowing her to wear such threadbare clothes. Though she was loath to wear anything heavier, the weight of the Circle robes a reminder when too many layers were worn. 

Sparrow unlocked the window and slipped inside before Raven passed the first column of windows. She gripped the bag tighter to her chest and scurried to the window. So used to Zevran being on the other side of the window, Raven reached out to where his hand usually was. She blindly groped around, her mind convinced for a second Zevran was just out of reach. The shift of her knocked the bag off of the windowsill, the full weight of the books on the strap around her neck. With a squawk she fell into the room, and smacked her head against the side of the desk. 

Sparrow had long since left the room, Raven’s slew of curses in Common and elvhen echoing down an empty hall. Raven was thankful she was able to wallow in her self pity alone. She didn’t need the condescending remarks from the young woman, while her head throbbed. Her eyes landed on the open window, her mind weighing the options of staying or braving the streets during the day. Staying won by a hair, simply for the fact she was already in the building. 

_Be wary of Sparrow. She is not above trying to kill Orleasian nobility…her promise to Zevran may not hold much weight._

Natalia's veiled warning was at the forefront of her mind as she pushed through the double doors. A quick glance showed no Sparrow within her line of sight. But it was dark, and her armor allowed her to blend in with the shelves. Raven drew upon her mana, a small orb of light hovering about her head.

"Magical buggery," Sparrow scoffed, somewhere out of sight. "Use a candle like a normal person."

"I-I don’t have...the books could burn.”

“Of course they can burn, they are made out of paper!” Sparrow scoffed, somewhere behind Raven. “Blind and stupid...perfect. At least Giselle was pretty...and had a lot of shinies she never noticed missing,” she muttered, just loud enough for Raven to hear. “Why compa ended whatever they had for this creepy ghostie...no wait, bad thought! I do not want that image seared into my brain!”

Raven kept her mouth shut, knowing whatever she said in her defense would fall upon deaf ears. She didn’t bother trying to locate Sparrow, finding more comfort in not knowing where the hostile woman was lurking. It was highly unlikely she would purposefully get close to Raven, so she was able to wander the library freely. One by one she reshelved the books after they were logged back in, the list of new books clutched in her left hand. 

Zevran’s absence was noticed yet again when she dropped a book on the ground, her body used to him plucking it from her fingers. The thump of it hitting the marble floor spooked her out of her trance. Raven looked down at the book for several seconds, her brain still processing why it fell to the ground. The crinkle of the letter in her pocket as she shifted her weight reminded her she was alone. 

_He was in Kirkwall. Sparrow is here._

Over and over she muttered this under her breath, as she went off in search of a cart. At the end of the aisle she stopped, forgetting why she was walking away. Confused, Raven turned back around and went back to where she was. 

“Oh right,” she breathed, picking up the book. “I need a cart.” 

Raven clutched the book to her chest while she looked for a cart. As she passed the front desk, she set the book down and wandered off. A handful of steps from the desk, the sound of Sparrow’s voice calling out gave her pause. 

“Ghostie, you know where the books go, yeah?”

“Are you asking if I know how to find certain books?”

“Yes,” the exasperated tone of Sparrow’s voice drug out the word, as she appeared from an aisle on the second floor. “That tis what I said. Can you find a book or not?”

“I can.” Warily, Raven turned to the sound of Sparrow’s voice, a hint of curiosity tilting her head. “Do you know if it’s here?”

“If I knew that I would not be asking you.”

“Ri-Right,” Raven muttered with a small shake of her head. “What is the book?”

“I do not know the title,” Sparrow shrugged. 

“Author?”

Again Raven only received a shrug. An annoyed breath hissed between her teeth as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is there anything about the book you know?”

“What? Like the color or something?...a lot of the books look the same. I do not want to be here all night while you look at the books with the same colors...and half of them do not have anything that says what they are about! How am I supposed to know if I want to read the book or not if there isn’t a little thing on the back?...all they ever put are people reaching around and stroking the author’s ego...phuawr!”

Raven bit back a snort at the lewd gesture and face Sparrow made. “Ye-yes,” she coughed behind her hand. “It’s rather frustrating at times, when you’re looking for something in particular. Do you at least know what it’s about?”

“Well...,” Sparrow drawled, relaxing against the banister. “Gray Wardens...but they keep their secrets locked tight...Calenhad Therin...he was the bloke who drank dragon’s blood I think? Madlad that he was...maybe Flemmeth...the hag,” Sparrow shuddered. “There has to be more in the books about her than what the legends say, yeah? Not everyone can read, so you gotta tell stories. But stories twist and turn when each person tells it...so you no longer know the truth from not truth.”

“I can see what I can find.” 

The whole interaction left her confused. Raven wandered over to the card catalogue, snagging a pencil and paper from behind the desk. Her fingers flitted through the cards, the magelight shining bright over her shoulder as she skimmed through the titles. Forty-five minutes later she slid the last drawer closed, nearly screaming when she turned and saw Sparrow sitting on the desk. 

“Fenehidis!”

“What?” Sparrow snorted, finishing off the last of her apple. “I have been here the whole time...not my fault you cannot hear me eating an apple...tis not exactly quiet.” She tossed the core into the wastebasket and slid off the counter. “How many did you find?”

“There are quite a few. I organized them based on the credibility of the author...most of them will have a heavy Chantry influence,” she held out the paper, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “But there will be some kernel of truth in what’s written...maybe.”

“Alright-” Sparrow stepped aside and motioned for Raven to lead the way- “where are they?”

“You need my help finding them too?”

“Yeah...you know the confusing numbers written on the sides of the aisles...why they think a normal person would know how to read those...they are probably just as weird and confusing as you are.”

“You know,” Raven muttered wryly some time later as she grabbed the first book from the list. “You might find people more amenable to helping you if you were nicer to them.”

“I am being nice, ghostie,” Sparrow smirked, snagging the book from Raven’s hands. “Tis when my knife is at their throat when they know I am not being nice...but they usually do not live long after that,” she snorted. 

“No wonder you have so many friends.”

“Family and not family get different types of nice...and people who are creepy get a different kind of nice,” Sparrow warned. “I have not drawn my blade on you have I?”

“No.”

“See?...nice...now where is the next one?”

Sparrow trailed behind Raven, grabbing the books Raven pointed to. It did not take long for the handful on the list to fill her arms. The last one in Raven’s as the two of them wandered back down to the desk. A small noise from Sparrow stopped Raven from leaving when she set the book down. She glanced over at the woman, who was staring intently at the books in her arms. They were dumped in a heap, whatever Sparrow muttered drowned out.

“What?” Raven turned around, cocking her head to the side confused.

“The satchel...I will carry it next time,” Sparrow rushed, turning her face away. “Tis bigger than you...I do not want Compa scolding me because you bumped your head.”

“You-you heard that?”

“Pretty hard not to hear...even from out here,” Sparrow snorted. “Did you really say ‘Fen’harel’s hairy taint?...I will have to remember that one.”

“‘Ma Serannas,” Raven muttered, a blush botching her complexion.

“Da’rahn.” Sparrow haphazardly shrugged a single shoulder, still refusing to look at Raven. 

“I didn’t know you speak elvhen?” Raven’s head snapped to Sparrow. “Did the Warden teach you?”

“Pfft! I taught her is more like it...she knew some, like many others. But most had been forgotten or twisted from what was...no, the woman who birthed me taught me how to speak it. I can read it too...came in handy in the ruins...found a lot of shinies and a person...or what was once a person in a rock. She was the best, I used to scare the living shite out of my sister jumping down off her...” Sparrow snorted as she continued to mumble to herself.

Raven opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. The less time the two of them spoke, the quicker she would be able to leave. While Sparrow wasn’t outright hostile like she was the first night, the weird ‘niceness’ set Raven on edge. It was as if the young woman didn’t know how to be soft...or nice, and was groping around blindly. But the same could be said for her as well. It was still difficult for Raven to ‘read the room’ as Nat put it one evening. Most were patient, but never explained. Except Zev. Again her mind slipped back to the last night they were together, a now familiar heat travelling to her core. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to push the thoughts from her mind. But the feel of his lips against her skin would not leave.

“Enough!” She mumbled, forcibly shaking her head. “He was doing those things because you wanted them...you don’t deserve to think of him.” 

She turned away from Sparrow, who had long since stopped paying attention to her and looked back at her list. There were still many on her list. Raven turned down an aisle and plucked another one from the shelf. Like before it tumbled to the ground, the need for a cart was long forgotten. Again, she stopped and stared, trying to remember what it was she was originally doing. 

“O-o-oh!” Raven vibrated, smacking the heel of her hand on her forehead. 

Like before she plucked the book off the ground and started her search. The book joined the other on the counter, as she set off once again. But her mind strayed to the silence of the room, Zevran’s absence a crippling weight. With her mind occupied, her feet took her to where they thought she needed to go. 

Another book. Another thump. Another realization. 

“I need a cart. I need a cart. I need a cart. I need a cart.” 

Over and over she repeated the mantra under her breath, not wanting to forget this time. Without Zevran’s presence to keep her grounded - to keep her focused - her mind wandered off at the smallest of things. It was yet another thing she came to rely on him for, and another thing she needed to apologize for. The book joined the others, her mantra long forgotten as her mind fell down another self-flagellating hole.

“Fenedhis lasa! Use a cart! You are going to take all night at this rate...and I do not-” Sparrow grunted, kicking a cart over to Raven. “-want to spend my night watching you scurry around.”

Raven winced, the edge of the cart crashing into her shins. She collapsed to the ground, smoothing her hands over the fresh wound. It was healed in a manner of seconds, with a small wave of her hand.

"Shite," Sparrow muttered. "I did not mean to do that...you...you were supposed to stop it with your hands, not your shins! That is not my fault!"

Sparrow’s rushed words before she disappeared, snapped Raven out of her thoughts. She chose to not say anything, her fingers brushing over Zevran’s letter in her pocket. Silence fell over the room, as Raven smoothed her fingers over the edge of the letter. Over and over the paper caught against the ridges of her skin, as she ventured deep into her mind. Several minutes passed until the sharp sting of a papercut reminded her where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. 

Raven shook her head, sticking the cut fingertip in her mouth. The taste of copper was on her tongue as she wound her way through the aisles, the clack of the wheels on the seams in the tile ticking away the seconds. One by one the rest of the books were stacked on the cart, one not pertaining to her research buried beneath the rest. Hidden from prying eyes. At the counter, they were stacked in piles next to Sparrow’s before she wandered off to find where the cart came from. 

“The aisle with boring books about knobs who stepped on the little people,” Sparrow’s voice rang out, seemingly from nowhere. 

When Raven returned to the desk, a cursory glance revealed a bored Sparrow leaning against the bannister. A book hung limply in her hand, as if she had paused her reading to observe Raven. Raven sucked in a quick and quiet breath before walking the rest of the way to the desk. It took several minutes of looking before she found the stamp and inkwell, yet another reminder that Zev was not with her. She swallowed down the thick feeling in her throat, clutching the stamp in a white knuckle grip.

"Why are you doing that? Tis a waste of time,” Sparrow asked after watching Raven for a few minutes. 

"I don't… it'll create more work for the librarians if these books come up missing," Raven muttered grabbing the metal device. 

"Like they would notice," Sparrow scoffed.

"But it's their job to know?" Raven asked, confused. "It’s not fair to them to have to work harder because I can’t go outside during the day."

“Why do you care if they have to work harder? Tis their job to keep track of the books, is it not?” She trailed her fingers along the railing as she made her way down the stairs. 

“Others shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my shortcomings.”

“Yet you are okay with Zev breaking into the library every week?” Sparrow asked with a quirk of her brow as she stopped on the other side of the desk. She set her book atop the stacks and tilted her head expectantly.

“He was the one that offered before I even asked,” Raven said quietly, looking down at her hands.

“But you could have said no,” Sparrow pressed. “Tis rather ironic that you do not want nameless strangers to bear your burden but allow Zev, no?”

“I am trying. It’s just hard. People stare and everything is so close and loud.”

“Tis a city, of course everything will be loud!" Sparrow sneered. "Get used to it. "

"It isn't that easy," Raven said quietly, refusing to admit the full extent of her short-commings to the younger woman. "Touching people makes me uncomfortable."

“Then hire a whore and have them touch you until you are comfortable!” Sparrow threw her hands up, her annoyance with the entire conversation apparent. “Tis what they are good at!”

“That’s not….that’s actually an excellent idea,” Raven muttered, thinking aloud.

“You cannot be serious?” Sparrow scoffed in disbelief. 

“Why not?” Raven shrugged, gathering the books. “You aren’t wrong.”

“Ask Gab or Nat…they are not creeped out by your face...you do not have the amount of coin needed to pay for a whore to spend the evening touching you...you would have to rob a prince...not one of the lower ones. They have no actual real assets you see, tis all land and you can not steal land.” Sparrow mused, seeming rather amused with herself. ”I would say it would have to definitely be one of top ten for the throne….though you would be dead before you even found them, they are crafty little buggers.” Sparrow snorted. ”They all have Crows, protecting their squishy parts...though they are nothing compared to Zev…or me.” She snorted again. “No one can best me...” 

“I can’t change how my magic manifested no more than you can change where you were born.” Raven tensed, knowing she shouldn’t have said anything about Sparrow’s birth. But a little angry voice inside of her head spoke before she could stop. Defending Zev the other day gave Raven the small spark of confidence she needed to want to push back. To no longer be stepped on.

“And what would you know of my past?” Sparrow sneered. “Do not make assumptions based on what little Zev may have told you.”

“I’m not...it doesn’t take a genius to question why a child was travelling with the Wardens that were fighting the Blight, when they had a home safe from it all.” Raven kept her eyes on the books, the urge to flee growing in tandem with Sparrow’s rising hostility.

“I was hardly a child, I stood taller then, than you do now” The young woman tried to deflect her discomfort with poorly flung insults. “I had my reasons for leaving, they are mine and mine alone.” Sparrow scowled as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I really do not want your pity, ghostie.”

“Believe me,” Raven snorted, a sour look on her face. “Pity is the last thing you will ever receive from me.”

Nothing else was said, each woman retreating to the safety of their own mind, the weird neutrality between them all but gone. The rustle of turning pages, the scratch of a pencil across paper, and the thump of the stamp on the cards ticked away the minutes. Witching hour was upon them when the two young women finally emerged from the library, Raven’s satchel laden with both of their books. She heaved it out the window, nearly falling out like she fell in. Before the bag hit the ground, pulling Raven with it, Sparrow grabbed the handle. She took the bag from Raven’s grasp and stood out of her way. 

Sparrow muttered something intelligible under her breath as she watched Raven struggle to close the window. She stopped a few feet away and gestured for Raven to move, an annoyed sound escaping her lips. With a small grunt, the window slammed shut. 

“Your eyes...they are creepy,” Sparrow blurted as she turned away from the window, handing Raven the bag. 

“So you’ve told me ,” Raven muttered, her shoulders tensing as she pushed her glasses up her nose. 

“Shite,” she cursed. “That tis not what I meant...the creepy blood mages I have seen had eyes like yours, well almost… sometimes they were blood red but mostly like your’s.”

“You would not be the first to say that,” Raven muttered, running her fingers along her scar.

“So are you a creepy blood mage or not?”

“Does it really matter what I say?” Raven snapped. “If I say no you’ll accuse me of lying. If I say yes, you’ll threaten to kill me if I so much as think about going near Zev again. You’ve already made your assumptions about me very clear. If I wanted a constant reminder about what I am I would have stayed with the Mages.”

“But why Antiva? Instead of going with The People?” She asked, a hint of genuine curiosity hidden behind the mask of indifference. “You do not exactly blend in Antiva City." 

"What do you mean...people?" Raven bristled, feeling some long thought buried start to crawl its way to the surface. 

"The People..." Sparrow vaguely waved at Raven, a familiar annoyed edge to her tone. "Surely they would have been preferred over the city you can only see when no one is awake."

The thing Raven had kept buried finally snapped within her. A small voice told her Sparrow was not the cause nor deserving of the almost two decades of self-loathing and anger she had built up. But the young woman was the straw that broke the halla’s back, and the thing Raven kept buried couldn't be stopped. 

“Just because I was born looking like this does not mean I deserve to be locked away in a cage...which isn’t what the Chantry wants people to believe.”

“That tis not-” Sparrow began, her face falling as she took a small step back. 

“You know nothing about what it’s like in the Circle, shem!” Raven seethed, stepping towards Sparrow. “We’re ripped from our families and thrown into a cage as a child. The stories the Chantry and Templars tell people have no semblance of truth to them...save that those that are Tranquil...you would not last a single night, little bird.” Her voice rose in volume as her tenuous grasp on her sanity snapped, body shaking with the force with which she forced out what she kept locked away. “Your pretty little face would have caught the attention of a templar quicker than you can spout off an attempt at a clever insult, to hide your obvious cowardice...and it wouldn’t matter if you cried...begged for them to stop. Again and again, they will take what wasn’t given, leaving nothing but pain and tainted bodies in their wake...an unwanted babe growing in your womb, only to be cut out and leave you barren...you who lacks the control would have become an abomination with one of their cocks buried deep in your unwilling cunt…You...who so vehemently denies her magic, is quick to judge me for what I am and what I look like...know nothing of what I endured...the sacrifices I made!" 

The tip of Sparrow’s dagger to her throat brought her up short. “Careful ghostie,” she warned, her tone low and threatening. There was a faraway look to her eyes, an almost feral edge to her stance that mirrored Raven’s. 

There was a pregnant pause before something flashed in Raven's eyes. "Do it," she whispered, leaning into the blade, a feral smile curling her lips. Hints of Sparrow’s magic danced along the blade, the crackle of static a comforting sound to Raven’s ears. "T'would be easy enough to concoct a story absolving you of blame in Zev's eyes," she goaded, mocking Sparrow’s accent. "It's what you want isn't it? To kill me so I'm no longer a reminder of what you are?...what would have happened to you...what will happen to you because you cannot control what you have."

Raven wrapped her smaller hand over Sparrow’s and pressed the blade into her skin. A low, satisfied hum reverberated in her throat at the look of disgust and fear on Sparrow’s face. She felt the familiar trickle of blood as it trailed down her neck and over the tattoo below her breasts. The serpent stirred feeling the erratic rise in Sparrow’s magic, its movements making Raven shudder. Something deep within her she kept locked in the deep recesses of herself stirred, rising to the challenge of Sparrow’s magic. It made her hands twitch, the snap of her magic a direct challenge. 

“You are insane! You think you are the only one with sad stories and scars. I am sorry ghostie, but you really have no idea who you are talking to here." Sparrow sputtered, shoving Raven away. "I am not getting in trouble because you are mad!...I made a promise!...I keep my promises!...and for future reference, I meant the Dalish! The People are Elves…the hag that birthed me, called the Dalish...The People." she cried out, her voice cracking. "You are creepy...scary, and you make my skin crawl and teeth tingle. But I did not mean the Circle…not the fucking Circle!"

Sparrow backed away, dagger still held out with a shaking hand. "You find your own way home. Zev only made me promise to open the window…” The young woman snarled. “Tis’ not happening again, even if he put all the gold in Orlais in front of me…not again… I do not need this shite in my life, neither does Compa…” 

Raven stood frozen, her mind slowly coming back to itself, as Sparrow disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke. Confusion gave way to shame as she realized what she had done. Yet again she had misinterpreted the situation, and reacted before giving it any thought. She dropped to a crouched, the weight of the books slamming to the ground nearly sending her toppling backwards. A pained sound lodged in her throat as she hugged her legs to her chest and pounded her forehead against her knees. 

_You’re stupid. You’re stupid. You’re stupid._

_You nearly lost control...again._

Raven sucked in a pained breath, trying to bite back the tears. But the longer she tried, the harder it became. A feeling of comfort, the suggestion letting go washed over her, causing her to scoff in derision. 

“I can’t,” she choked, a wet sniffle punctuating her statement. “I am the cause of this. I fucked up. I was the one who lost control.”

Her hands knocked her glasses askew as she rubbed her the heels of her hands against her eyes, with enough force to be just shy of painful. Again she felt the demon’s presence washing over her, trying to soothe the hurt, convince her to not hold it so close to her chest. Its subtle thrumming waves lulled Raven into a trance, her mind slipping. Again it tried, worming its way into the cracks, only to be forced out. 

“Enough!” Raven snapped. “I do not need your pity! Lest you forget I am the reason why you’re the way you are!” 

She curled in on herself, shutting out everything as her mind walked down a familiar dark path. One she had not been down since the Circle. But...it - no it was she who thought these thoughts - was right. If she had died when she was a young girl none of this would have happened. Nat and Gab would not have to walk on eggshells in their own home. Her family would still be in Ansburg, happy and alive. Zev would...her breath hitched, a pained hiss escaping between her teeth. His life would be infinitely better. She did not bring a single good thing to his life...to any of their lives. All she did was take and taint. She was naught but poison.

“Raven,” Nat’s soft tone broke through the haze around Raven’s mind some time later. “Is everything okay?” The older woman knelt by Raven, her hands clasped loosley in her lap. “It’s dawn and we got worried when you didn’t set off the ward upon your return.”

“Why do you care?” 

Nat blinked at the thinly veiled anger in Raven’s voice. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t care?”

“Because it’s me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific if I’m supposed to not care,” Nat teased. 

“Don’t patronize me!” Raven barked, her head snapped up to look at Nat, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Just fuck…just fuck-” she breathed, her shell cracking- “just...go away.”

"You're angry."

"Of course I'm fucking angry!" Raven seethed through clenched teeth, more cracks forming. "Again and again I ruin things, take advantage of people's kindness."

"I have a feeling that's not the true source of your anger," Nat mused, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt as she sat. “That you are diverting the blame to yourself once again because you find it is easier to hate yourself like Edgar taught you than to address the true source.” Nat paused, taking in the stiff set of Raven’s body.

“You’re wrong,” Raven muttered.

“I’m wrong?”

“Yes! You’re wrong!" She shouted. "I am the source of all of this. I am the fuck up who was posessed as a child, forcing my family to leave their home. I am the monster I saw in my mother’s eyes. I have forced Zev to do what I want-” Raven gestured wildly, a manic gleam to her eye and a panicked edge to her voice “-I’m the one who perceived what Sparrow said wrong and all but goaded her into killing me...I do nothing but take and take from you...from Gab...from Zev.” 

“What did you do to Sparrow?”

“I taunted her, backed her into a corner...pushed her to the point that I thought she would have done it...or at least tried...why didn't she do it?...she should have done it," Raven muttered, sounding almost disappointed. 

“Do you want to die Raven?” There was a softness to Nat’s voice that belied the seriousness in her tone. “Look at me, Raven. Do you want to die?”

Raven flinched, staring down at her dirty feet. She scuffed her toe along the stone until a faint layer of dirt hid the skin scraped raw. “Yes…no...I don’t…I don’t know,” she whispered, shrugging. “If I had died all those years ago, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t be tainting the lives of those around me with my miasma.”

Nat sighed, her shoulders sagging. All she wanted to do was gather the petite elf in her arms and soothe away the lifetime of hurt. But this was something she couldn’t fix with a wave of her hand, as much as she wanted. That didn’t stop the gears in her head from clicking and whirring as a plan started to formulate in her mind. 

“That is a statement I can’t stand behind. But I know whatever I try to say now will fall on deaf ears...and my old bones can’t sit in the dirt all morning. Plus I don’t think you want to walk home when the sun is fully up and the city is awake,” Nat smirked. 

Raven’s head popped up, her self-loathing forgotten at the thought of having to navigate the city while it teemed with people. 

“There she is,” Nat smiled softly. “Come, let’s go home. Everything will be better when you wake up.”

The walk home passed by in a blur, Nat’s constant chatter a white noise in the back of her mind. She nodded or hummed where necessary, unaware Nat knew she wasn’t paying attention. Raven was sent to her room with a glass of tea meant to soothe her nerves and give her a dreamless sleep. While she didn’t want to drink it, the after effects lasting longer than the benefits, Nat threatened to make her stay and drink it in front of the older woman. 

“All the sugar in Thedas can’t make this taste good,” Raven gagged, downing most of it in a single swallow. 

She coughed and gagged, choking down the rest of it, her eyes watering. Sleep found her shortly after, keeping her well into the next morning. A soft knock dragged her into the waking world, her entire body feeling like lead. Raven groaned and hid her face in the pillow, waiting for the fogginess of her mind to dissipate. 

“Oh good, you’re finally awake,” Nat breezed into the room and set a small tray on Raven’s desk. “You really need to organize your research notes better. I brought you breakfast...as well as this.” Nat fished a bundle of gray fur out of her pocket and plopped it on the bed.

“I…,” Raven gaped, dumbfounded. “You’re giving me a kitten?"

“One of my patient’s cats had a litter. The rest have all found homes. But this little runt has no one.”

“But why give him to me?” Raven asked, glancing between Nat and the kitten wobbling towards her. 

“Because, you need a reason to want to live. This kitten’s is entirely your responsibility. Their life is in your hands.”

“But I…don’t…” 

Raven looked at Nat confused, until the deafening meowing of the kitten drew her attention. She scooped the kitten up, and brought it close to her face. Without her glasses she could barely make out its features, but was able to distinguish its orange eyes. Its back legs dangled in the air as she held it under the armpits. 

“I am not willing to take that chance,” Nat whispered, a thickness to her voice. She looked out the window blinking back her tears. “I can’t magically fix things for you or make you want to live, as much as I want to try. All I can do is give you something that makes you get out of bed each day.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry...ir abelas,” Raven muttered, rubbing her nose across the top of the kitten’s head.

“There’s no need to apologize. I just want you to promise me you’ll come to me or Gab if those thoughts come back.”

“Okay.”

“I want to hear you promise.” There was an almost desperate edge to her voice as she gripped the footboard and gave it a small shake.

“I-I promise I will come to one of you the next time I start to think that,” Raven jumped, at the jostling of her bed. 

“Good,” Nat sighed with a small smile. “Now take the day and bond with your kitten. I’m sure you can scrounge up the things you need somewhere in this house. Maker knows we have enough little odds and ends tucked away,” she snorted. 

At the door Nat paused, looking back at a clearly overwhelmed Raven. “You are not as selfish or as miasmatic as you paint yourself to be. All that was given to you since you came to live with us was freely given...and would be given time and time again. You have not known kindness for longer than any one person should...it will take some time.”

“But I take and give nothing in return,” Raven whispered, her gaze never leaving the kitten in her hands. 

“Gab, while she is many things, cannot take care of my plants to save her life. It’s a miracle I didn’t return home to a barren garden. Several may have withered and died. But the rest, they endured...survived. It took a while, but I finally got my garden back.”

“I’m-I’m glad?” Raven looked over at Nat, confused. 

“Would you consider it selfish of my plants to take and take the water and care I gave them until they were back to what they were?”

“No...they needed you to bring them back.”

“As do you. You are slightly more complicated than a plant,” Nat chuckled. “But like my plants, you need time and care to become whole...you are so used to people taking you forgot what it feels like to have someone give.”

“But I-”

“Just because you do not return what is given tenfold does not mean you do not give. You have painstakingly organized Gab’s office...which is no small feat,” she snorted. “You have kept my garden beds free of weeds and pruned.”

“Your back hurts after a while,” Raven said, scrunching her nose.

“But I did not ask you to...nor did Gab ask you to organize decades worth of clutter,” Nat smiled gently, her eyes crinkling. “You do give in your own way...and watching you get further and further away from the husk you were in the Circle brings me endless joy.”

“That’s all I wanted to say,” Nat said quietly, as the silence stretched between them. Raven had long since turned away from her, refusing to look at Nat. The old woman shut the door with a gentle click, her warm smile never faltering. 

Once alone, Raven settled the kitten on the bed and sank back down under the covers. Everything was getting to be too much. Too many thoughts, too many emotions welling up inside of her. Raven pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, her nails digging into her scalp well past when it hurt. Her body shook the bed as tears ran down the sides of her face. Again and again Raven tried to reign it all in, but it was too much and she was tired of fighting. She pressed her face into her pillow, to muffle her sobs and screams. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed by the time her body had worn itself out. She felt more exhausted than during the first few weeks she had started her training with Gab. But this was a different exhaustion, like whatever weight that was on her back had gotten just a little bit lighter. 

Raven didn’t like to think of herself as a burden, didn’t want to do anything that could lead Gab or Nat to think that way. But each time she slipped up and feared the worse, nothing happened. What had happened the night before should have landed her on the streets, or so her brain told her. Instead, she found herself surrounded by two people who constantly reassured her she wasn’t a burden, she could voice what upset her...and gave her her first pet. With that thought in mind, Raven sat up, the pillow falling to her lap. The kitten had curled up and fell asleep between her legs, unable to do anything else. She reached out and gently scratched her nail atop his head.

“I’m sorry little guy,” Raven whispered, her voice thick and wet from crying. She wiped her nose along her arm, ignoring the trail of snot. “You ended up with the short straw. But I’ll try my best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for reading and loving Raven like I love her. <333


	7. Chapter 7

Since Raven's outburst she withdrew into herself, almost regressing to the mute she was six months prior. The events replayed in her mind, slowly twisting as her self-loathing grew. She would have stayed cocooned in the safety of her room, but the kitten Nat so unceremoniously dropped in her lap forced her to do something. 

Dishes for food and water were found with relative ease that first morning. She had tried to hide amongst her blankets and pillows after that, but the kitten peed on her bed. While she wallowed in self-pity, scrubbing the pee and other stains accumulated over the months, the kitten eager to explore its new surroundings, shredded a small stack of papers on the floor. This too forced her to clean and organize her room, something that hadn't been done since the day she arrived. It started a chain reaction. The current state of her room was no place for a kitten to live. Dust, dirty clothes, scraps of paper, and long forgotten dishes were cleaned out. 

By the end of the fourth day, her room no longer resembled a back alley in an alienage. Nat and Gab both tried to convince her to make the room hers in the past. But each time they managed to get her to sit with them for more than just a meal, Raven could never settle. So she stuck with what they had hastily thrown together when her and Nat arrived. 

Now the fresh smell of citrus flowers wafted off her clean linens and clothes. Sheer muslin curtains on rods replaced tattered sheets tacked above the windows. Books were stacked - arranged by topic and author - on the bookshelf she found when looking for curtains. True to her namesake, Raven had collected seashells, rocks, colored glass bottles, and other little knick knacks that caught her eye to adorn her ‘nest’ during her nightly excursions into the city. Before they were littered among the detritus. But now they were tucked among the books, lined up along window sills, and several other flat surfaces. By the end of the week, her room had transformed into her sanctuary. No longer did her mind fret and claw at itself. Sleep was still just as elusive, newer reasons taking the reins from the older.

The kitten, whom she named Potato Soup, quickly became her shadow. He was quiet and calm, content to bask in the sun that shone through the open windows each afternoon while Raven worked. The stuffed pig she had found in storage always by his side. 

Raven told him everything about her past that first night, both of them curled up under her freshly washed sheets. It was hard at first, the contents of the vault deep within her kept even from herself at times. But the rhythmic vibration of his purring let her venture deep, to pull the heavy door open a crack. Each secret, each memory, each little pain a stone she used to build her fortress. 

"I have to do better."

Each morning she would wake the bag of library books were the first thing she saw, still on the floor where she initially dropped them. They were a beacon - a constant reminder - of what she had almost done. 'The Madness' as she called it was something she could usually keep in check. All she needed to do was stay within a safe spectrum of emotion and never let her thoughts stray. It was easy in the Circle and before. But the longer she stewed, the deeper in her mind she dug, she realized her current method of coping wasn't going to last. Raven knew without a doubt she would slip, become the abomination everyone thought her to be if nothing was changed. 

It took Raven a week before she was able to work up the nerve to talk to Gab or Nat about what had happened. Saying she was going to do better and actually doing were two completely different things. But she refused to let herself become the abomination many thought she already was. The only problem was she didn't know where to start. It’s why she stood outside the door to Gabriella’s office, a little over a week after the initial incident. Over and over Raven rehearsed what she wanted to say in her head that she didn’t hear Gab open the door until the older woman cleared her throat.

“Good morning, bichitio.”

The familiar dark blue of Gabriella’s harem pants came into Raven’s line of sight as Raven looked up. Tendrils of the older woman’s curly, black hair clung to her neck, stuck in place by the sweat from her morning training. The strips of fine leather she wrapped around her feet and hands - much like the Dalish - were absent. A quick glance back showed Raven had passed them hanging on the clothesline at the other end of the courtyard. Gab had thrown a simple loose tunic over the cloth wrapped around her chest that served as a breast band. 

“On dhea,” Raven said quietly. “If it’s not too much to ask, I wanted to talk for a moment.”

There was a pause as Gab studied Raven’s posture, from the twitch of her toes to the fingernails Raven dug into her hands. She opened the door wider and moved to the side, Raven flitting by like a nervous songbird. The door closed with a soft click, Gab moving soundlessly across the room. She took her seat back at her desk, pointing to the plush armchair Natalia had left in there years ago. Prior to Raven’s hyperfocus organizational clean, Gab’s desk and what furniture that was in the room were covered in various stacks of papers, newspapers, and folders. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust and the curtains drawn shut. Natalia was the only one who ever made an attempt at cleaning the office. It was an uphill battle that was lost the moment Nat was taken to the Circle. 

But that was until Raven happened across the room one night, her restless mind causing her to pace the villa like a caged beast. She slipped inside and what was her picking up the newspapers she accidently knocked off a table, turned into a full on clean that left both Nat and Gab speechless when they woke the next morning. Curtains swung in the breeze as they dried on the clothesline, both women forgetting the rich burgundy they once were. The once dull carpet draped over several chairs, it’s vibrant hues and patterns visible once again. When they found Raven she was sitting amongst a pile of books, talking to herself as she organized them by topic and author. It was several of those books that now sat in Raven’s growing collection, Gab insisting Raven keep them for herself. 

“Sit, and tell me what is troubling you.”

“I-I need help…advice.” 

Raven stiffened, afraid her thoughts were written as plain as day on her face. The silence stretched, Raven finding herself both relieved and floundering when Gab didn't fill in the silence. She stared wide-eyed, willing Gab to talk. But the older woman had turned her attention to the papers littered on her desk, an amused smile softening her face. The sun shone through the open window, blanketing Gab in a halo of light. Raven cleared her throat and shoved her glasses back up her nose. She sat ramrod straight on the edge of the chair, her fingernails digging into her knees through the thin cotton of her skirt. 

"I know how I have been coping with… everything isn't the best thing. But-and I want to do better…but I don't know where to start."

"From my experience the best place to start is knowing why you wish to change. Tis it for you or for others?" Gab sat back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other. 

"I want to do it for me," Raven tore her gaze from the patterned carpet, forcing herself to look Gab in the eye. "And for those I care about. I don't want to be what I am any longer. I don't want to be alone."

"That tis good. Now you need to find a starting point."

"And that's where I'm having the most trouble," Raven’s shoulders sagged, the small pile of crumpled paper around her desk a monument to her failed brainstorming. "I have used and hurt so many people that I don't know who to start with."

"Why not the most recent?"

"I...I fear she will not be amenable to me attempting an apology. I was not kind."

"She also said as such."

Raven flinched, tucking her head down. "Then you understand why…"

"But-" Gab sat up, leaning her whole body towards Raven- "I also know Sparrow. While you were unjustly cruel towards her, she is hardly the sole victim in this...nor undeserving of some of your anger. You cannot push aside your own hurts, that is no different than what you do now."

"I know," Raven sighed in defeat. “She was a tit, and I was annoyed with the few unkind things she had said. But the part of me that likened her to Edgar that first night...no it wasn’t that, it was something deeper,” she exhaled, her eyes roving around as she thought. “Something I keep buried inside...it came out, and I now realize how I have been dealing with things is not the healthiest way...especially someone like me who can easily be possessed.”

“Keeping things locked deep down tis not the best way to deal with what life has thrown at us, regardless of whether or not a demon can possess your body with ease. But that also does not mean you should lash out in defense at the slightest offense either.”

“I know,” Raven muttered with a small nod, her nails digging crescents into her kneecaps. "What should I do?"

Raven looked up at Gab with such hopelessness in her gaze, the older women had to glance away. Her and Nat were navigating blind when it came to helping the two young women, each needing a different approach to a similar situation. What Sparrow had told her the other night replayed in her head. While she only knew the small fragments either had told them, Gab knew without a doubt the two of them would find healing and acceptance in the other. The only issue was getting them to have a conversation that didn't border on hostile. 

"You are aware I have talked to Sparrow since the incident. I have promised her I would tell no one what she told me - including Nat - but I can tell you the two of you are not as different as you both would think. If there is any place to start, tis with her."

"But where would I start?"

"I have found an apology tis usually the best place," Gab said with a small amused smile. 

"Do I write a letter or tell her in person?"

"In person would be best."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Raven muttered wryly. "I don't know if my mind will stay on track or say what I want to say."

"Then write it down. You have a week until the next library visit. Spend your free time thinking of what you will say."

"If she'll be there."

"She will. She tis not as prickly as she would have others believe." Gab reached across her desk and grabbed the book Sparrow gave her the other night. "She asked me to give you this."

Raven reached out with a small tremble in her hands, almost afraid to touch the book. Once in her hands she flipped it open and skimmed the first page. 

"I do not think a conversation between the two of you will be that hard."

"I…okay. 'Ma serannas." Raven made to stand, but froze when Gab cleared her throat.

“There is another question, if I may ask?”

“Of course." Raven sat back down, pressing the book into her lap as she held the spine in a death grip.

“Sparrow mentioned something the other night that has left me confused, and I was hoping you would be able to clarify...she mentioned you hiring a prostitute to touch you.”

“Ah...that,” Raven said with a small nod. “Since Zevran came into my life, I find myself able to touch someone without wanting to crawl out of my skin for the first time since coming to the Circle…it’s strange,” Raven mused looking at the palms of her hands. She wiggled her fingers slowly, the memory of his warmth never far from her mind. 

“And you are curious if tis just him you can touch or you are healing because of his touch?”

“Precisely.” Raven nodded, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “It’s odd that he’s the first person I can touch, look at, or talk to without feeling as if I'm going to crawl out of my own skin...Sparrow pointed something out that night, and she is right. I can’t keep relying on Zevran to make me better...and I fear that has been what I have been subconsciously doing. I don’t want to rely on him. My problems are mine and mine alone.”

“But why the prostitute?”

“Because they know how to touch people to make them feel good.”

“Y-yes, you are not wrong,” Gab bit back a chuckle, thankful Raven didn’t notice. “But I do not think the ‘feel good’ you are thinking about tis the same as what they are paid for.”

“Oh I know that,” she said with a small nod. “But if I explain what it is I’m looking for to the proprietor, it shouldn’t be hard.”

“I do not think that will work like you think it will.” Gab’s shoulders shook, holding in her laughter. “Why don’t-” she coughed, clearing her throat- “why don’t you use Nat or myself?”

“Because it’s different...if I still can’t touch people, and only him…maybe they will know how to get me comfortable with being touched…he said he grew up in a whorehouse and the Crows taught him how to use his body for someone else's pleasure on top of everything else," Raven scooted forward a fraction, an almost excited gleam to her eye. "I want to know if there's something inherently different with how they touch people compared to those who don't use their bodies for their line of work."

"You have given this a lot of thought."

"I have, and I…I want to know if I'm broken beyond repair."

"No one is ever broken beyond repair. There are just some who take much longer than others."

"No," Raven muttered with a small shake of her head. "There are those of us...Mages, who are shattered time and time again that all that's left is dust. I want to...need to know if there is still hope for me."

"And if there is not?" Gab asked quietly, giving voice to the fear Raven locked away. 

Raven looked at Gab, knowing the old woman knew what was left unsaid. She flinched but did not look away when the older woman's face wrinkled with displeasure. At the end of the day, Raven knew that what was left unsaid was the best course of action. Raven did not want to become the abomination, but if there was nothing of her left to salvage it was best to know now. 

"That tis too harsh of a test to determine something such as that."

"It may. But I refuse to solely rely on others."

"Bichitio," Gab sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Only being comfortable with a single person touching you does not make you broken beyond repair. Such things are not so black and white."

"Then what else could it be?" Raven asked with a helpless shrug. 

"Have you ever thought that perhaps the reason why you react the way you do with Zev is because you have feelings for him?"

"I-I don't think," Raven coughed, feeling the heat rising in her face. "No...no, that's not it."

"Did you not have any romantic feelings for someone while you lived with the Dalish to compare?"

"I...maybe? There was someone," Raven mused, looking down at the book in her lap. "Varnehn...she was a craftsman for the clan. So full of life and warmth," Raven smiled wistfully. "When we were kids she'd sneak into Deshanna's tent to steal me away from my lessons. We'd explore the forests, until one of the hunters came to take me back. She always told me that once she got her vallaslin we would be bonded."

"Have you thought of returning to her since the Circles fell?"

"If she has not walked Falon'din's paths beyond the Veil, she is likely bonded with children of her own… what was said during those days was promised a lifetime ago."

Raven twisted the thin band of ironbark around her pinky, remembering silky hair so black it shined blue in the sun. Freckles that stood out against olive skin in the heat of summer. All the little promises and plans they made, held in the other's embrace while they napped in the shade. It had been years since she allowed the memories of Varnehn out of the vault she locked everything from her past into. But where there was once a suffocating pain, knowing Raven would never get to see her again, there was only a soft sadness for what could have been. 

Her mind conjured what could have been if she had gone back, Varnehn waiting with open arms. But Varnehn didn't smell like her. She smelled like sandalwood, leather, and something that was distinctly someone else. When she pulled back from the embrace, Raven didn't see the freckled face of Varnehn. His warm chuckle rang in her ear as she leaned back. The end of his letter whispered in her mind. 

_Especially the naughty ones._

"Thank you for listening and your suggestions. I have a lot to think about." Raven shot up, the book falling to the floor. 

"O-of course," Gab jumped, not expecting the sudden outburst. 

Raven snatched the book from the floor and all but fled the room. She scurried to her room and when she heard the familiar click of the lock, Raven finally exhaled the breath she held the entire way. The book was tossed onto her bed and she sunk to the floor. The tiles cooled her heated skin, her mind hyperfocusing on that one sentence. 

_Especially the naughty ones.  
Especially the naughty ones.  
Especially the naughty ones. _

Raven rolled onto her back and scrubbed her hands up her face, her glasses tangling in her hair. Thinking of Varnehn let something slip out, another something she had safely tucked away so long ago she had thought it gone. For so long she had made herself Tranquil, she forgot simple things most people took for granted. Raven never thought nor wanted to feel any sort of desire since Edgar had touched her, tainted her body. But now that Gab had planted the seed, Raven felt it start to grow in the heat of her stomach. Though if she were honest, Gab didn’t plant the seed. All she did was part the canopy to allow sunlight to reach the ground. 

“Potato Soup, what am I to do?” Raven groaned, feeling the now familiar weight of the kitten on her stomach, his purring filling the silence. “Gab suggested I write down an apology for Sparrow, because she is the most recent person I’ve hurt...which if I’m honest, will be the easier conversation,” she snorted, scratching the cat behind the ears. “Zev is the one I have no idea where to start...and I fear I may end up ruining the friendship - if there is one - for feelings I may or may not have for him...which mind you, I have only just been made aware of...you’re lucky you’re a cat. Life is so much simpler.”

Potato Soup chittered and purred, bumping his head against her chin. Raven idly scratched him with her long nails, as her mind thought over the list of things she needed to do. It became more than she originally thought, the longer she lay on the floor. 

“I’m sorry, lethal'lin. But I need to write this down or I’ll forget.” 

Raven cooed apologies under her breath as she disturbed the kitten’s slumber. She deposited him on her pillow and made her way to her desk, untangling her glasses from her hair. The list was hastily written down on one of the sheets that held one of her past attempts at brainstorming. She tacked it up on her wall next to the book key and a list of other things she needed to get done, leaving room for more to be added. The rest of the scraps of paper were gathered, smoothed out and stacked on her desk underneath a book. If her earlier brainstorming was any indication, Raven knew her apology was going to take several attempts. Rather than waste more paper she bought with what money she had, she used the crumpled up papers instead. Once she knew what she wanted to say, she’d use a clean sheet of paper.

A few evenings and several drafts later, Raven stood outside an ornate - almost gaudy - building tucked away from the main thoroughfare. The sounds of music and laughter trickled from the building, drowning out the moans that would filter through. If it weren’t for the burning question in her mind, Raven would have never stepped foot in a place like this. She hadn’t even placed a foot on the first step and she felt her anxiety start to eat her alive. But it was in the name of science, and she was not one to balk from an experiment. It was what gathered her courage and propelled her inside. 

The first snag in her hastily thought out plan was when a large human greeted her at the door. He looked as if he would have to walk sideways through most doorways. 

“Good evening.” His voice was low and smooth, nothing like the harsh look in his eye. “What brings you to Signora Rizzo's?"

"I-I ummm…I hav-have money." Raven's hand shot out, the small bag of coins clutched in a white knuckle grip. 

The man looked her up and down before taking the small bag. It took a slight tug, her anxiety refusing to let her release the bag. 

“Man or woman?”

“Uhh, eith...either will be fine.”

"Un momento. Someone will be out to help you."

The man disappeared behind a curtain. Raven glanced past him into the next room, its hedonism daunting. Men and women alike lounged in silk clothes, designed to draw the eye and reveal just enough to make people pay to see more. 

As the minutes stretched, Raven’s anxiety grew. She picked at the skin around her nails until some of them started to bleed. A quick rush of her mana healed the wounds, her picking never stopping. 

Out of nowhere an older woman slipped into the room. She was clothed in silk that hid more than revealed. Her posture spoke of someone who did not spend most of their night on their back. At a glance, Raven noted her makeup was heavy, no doubt hiding something equally jarring as Raven’s scar. Her hair was an unnatural shade of blonde, clashing with her tan skin. 

“This is your first time here, yes?” Her accent was heavy, almost forced. 

“Y-yes. It has been...been a long time,” Raven swallowed, her face more than speaking for itself. She kept her gaze down, counting the colored tiles.

“I see,” the woman replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “We have just the person for that. Follow me.”

Raven followed the woman through the curtain and around the outside of the room to the stairs. She kept her gaze locked on the back of the woman’s dress, her nails still picking away. At the top, they walked down a hall, closed doors on either side. Moans - exaggerated and fake - rang out in time with the sweaty slap of flesh. The woman stopped at the last door in the hall and motioned for Raven to step inside. Inside an older woman lounged on a bed amongst an array of silk pillows. 

“Buona serata, signora,” the woman purred. 

Raven pushed her glasses up her nose and glanced over at the woman. She skittered to the side as the door swung shut. In the dim light, she looked no older than Natalia. They both had the same jet black eyes and hair. Subconsciously, Raven reached up and tugged at the lock of her frizzy hair that had fallen from the loose topknot on her head. 

“You can come closer, I don’t bite. Unless that's what you prefer," she purred. 

Everything from the huskiness of her laugh to the way she arranged her body were meant to seduce Raven. But she only found herself regretting coming in the first place. Money was spent, and she doubted she would receive a refund even if she asked. But the question still burned at the forefront of her mind. So she stayed.

“I-I’m good he-here. Thank...thank you.”

There was a pause as the woman regarded Raven, unsure of how to proceed for a split second. But Raven was not the first skittish person to walk past the threshold, and she would not be the last. 

“What is your name?” 

“Rav...Raven.”

“A pleasure to meet you Raven,” she smiled. “I am Fausta.”

Raven glanced at Fausta as the older woman closed her robe and untangled herself from the pillows. She rose with a fluid grace that only came from years of practice. Slowly Fausta closed the distance between them, forcing Raven to back into the door. The old woman stopped in front of Raven and reached out towards her. She stopped halfway when Raven flinched into the door, rattling it on its hinges.

“What brings you here, little bird?”

“I...I’m not sure anymore,” Raven whispered. 

It all felt wrong and she wanted to flee, experiment be damned. She should have listened to Gab, to the voice in her head that told her she wasn’t ready. But Raven was her babae’s daughter, and such things never got in the way of an experiment. Even if she had lept before she looked.

“It has been a long time since anyone has touched you in kindness hasn’t it?”

Such a simple question held a weighted answer. But Raven didn’t need to speak it. Everything about her told Fausta what she needed to know. The little Dalish elf in front of her had seen such horrors that she had all but forgotten that not all touch comes with pain. Only a few such people graced her doors like Raven. 

“You were in one of the Circles, weren’t you?”

It was the smallest of nods, but proved Fausta’s suspicions. She dropped her hand to the side and walked back over to the bed. Fausta sat on the edge and patted the mattress. 

“Come little bird. We can just talk.”

Raven looked up at the woman, seeing only kindness in her eyes. It almost looked motherly, from what little Raven remembered of her mother’s kindness.

“I promise, I won’t touch you unless you ask me.”

For a moment, Raven found herself back in the library and a similar conversation with Zevran. After the night with her panic attack, he had assured her that physical touch would be only after her consent. Though he did tack on there may be an accidental touch or two when fighting, but that he didn’t think she would hold it against him. Unless the punishment involved chains and rope he had joked. A joke that had gone over her head at the time, and one she inwardly cursed when it brought an image that wouldn’t leave. 

“You must really love them?”

“Huh-what?” 

“Whomever you were thinking about,” Fausta said. “You had the most passionate look on your face for a split second. It was breathtaking.”

“I...please don’t,” Raven muttered, turning the scarred side of her face away.

“You are a beautiful woman, little bird.”

“I look like something summoned from the Fade...a Maleficar. Everyone-” Raven stopped, shaking her head. “Most people are frightened by what I look like.”

“Ah, but you didn’t say everyone. Whomever was on your mind wasn’t.”

“No, he’s not...and it’s rather strange.”

“He is why you’re here aren’t you? You wish to know how to pleasure him?”

“Wha-what!? N-No...no!” Raven balked. “My reason for coming here was entirely academic.”

“Academic?”

“Yes.”

“Why do I have a feeling a very long and interesting story is behind your answer?” Fausta chuckled, amused at the strange turn this was taking.

“It’s not that interesting,” Raven shrugged, pushing her glasses up her nose. “My past has made all thought of touch…I want to crawl out of my skin,” she shuddered.

“Except for him,” Fausta mused

“Yes,” Raven’s brow furrowed as she started to pace the room. “He touches and feels so freely. It’s daunting to be the focus of it...like...like the first time I felt the sun on my face after eight years of darkness. It was all so much. But he...he didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want. Nat and Gab mean well...they try to understand, and help how they can....But Zev, he is...different. I feel different with him.” She stopped, her brow furrowed as she looked at the ground. “Gab...she-she tells me that I have feelings for him...but I can’t. It doesn’t feel like Varnehn. But she was another life, when I was whole. His feels different...and he’s all I can think about, when I don’t deserve to think like that. But I can’t stop. So now here I am...wondering if it’s just him, something people who work in these establishments are taught, or if I am truly getting better...Gab thinks it’s a terrible idea. But I have to disagree-” she shoved her glasses back up her nose, looking at the woman- “It’s a perfect plan. You are a stranger whose profession is to make people feel good...you touch everything - a lot.”

Fausta sat speechless, unprepared for the slew of words that were flung towards her. The young woman continued to speak, but she admittedly tuned part of it out when she heard Raven speak Zev’s name. It was a name from her past, one she had hoped to hear again. 

“You said this man’s name is Zev?” Fausta asked, curiosity lacing her tone. 

“Yes...he is...no was...a Crow.” 

“I haven’t heard that name in years,” Fausta hummed. “I’m glad he’s still alive.”

“You know Zevran?”

“I do. He was born here.”

“He told me his mother was a…”

“Whore,” Fausta smirked.

“Ye-yes,” Raven flinched. “I believe that's what he said.”

“He was raised here until he was seven, and the Crows bought him. I hadn’t seen him since.”

“Would…would you like me to tell you what I know about him?”

“Please,” Fausta smiled, scooting to the side to give Raven more room to sit. 

Raven perched on the corner of the bed and haltingly told Fausta everything she had learned about Zevran in the past months. All in all it wasn’t much. But it had been more than Fausta had ever heard. What interested her more were the obvious budding feelings between the two of them, despite what one or both were willing to admit. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised. He was like that even as a child. He cared for all the whorehouse children, younger and older. But I am glad my prediction was correct.”

“Prediction?”

“Yes. I read his fortune when he was young. I was surprised to see he was to live a long life. Would you like me to read yours too?” Fausta hummed, holding out her palm. 

“I…” Raven clutched her hands to her chest, afraid to move closer. 

“You wish to know if it’s only him you can touch, no?”

“You’re right...I do.” 

Raven slowly held out her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. Her hand trembled, the heat from Fausta’s hand radiating. Before the woman could touch her, Raven snatched her hand back shaking her head furiously. 

“I...I change my mind. I don’t want to do this anymore.” There was a panicked edge to her voice, her body trembling.

Fausta hummed and sat back, giving Raven some space. “Easy, little bird. I will not touch you. But you can’t test your theory if you don’t allow me to touch you.”

“I know,” Raven wheezed, silently cursing her body for its overreaction. “But I cannot calm my mind.”

“A drink might be helpful.”

Fausta reached over to the table next to the bed and grabbed a bottle with a clear liquid. She opened the bottle and handed it to Raven. “Take a drink. But be careful. It will burn.”

Raven hesitantly reached out and grabbed the bottle. The overwhelming smell of the alcohol hit her nose, making her cough. She eyed it for a moment, looking between it and Fausta. The older woman chuckled, took the bottle from her. After a healthy swig she handed it back. Raven balked, unsure for a moment before shaking her head and taking a drink. The liquid burned going down, making her choke and cough. 

“I did tell you to be careful,” Fausta chuckled, lounging against the pillows.

“But you drank it no problem!” Raven gagged.

“Because I have been drinking it longer than you have been alive,” Fausta laughed. She plucked the bottle from Raven’s loose grip and took another swig. “Maraas-Lok only burns the first few sips.” 

She set the bottle aside and waited for Raven to stop coughing. Once again she held out her hand to Raven and waited. 

“I-I don’t want my fortune read,” Raven slurred, the alcohol starting to take effect. “I don’t want to find out my future is bleak...can I just...can I just hold your hand?”

“You can. But that would require you giving me your hand.”

Slowly, Raven reached out her hand and held it over Fausta’s. It hung in the air while she warred with her anxiety and curiosity. Her hand became heavier and heavier as the minutes ticked by, and the Maras’lok worked its way into her system. The voices in her head muffled as her body felt loose and heavy. 

_If this is what drunk is, I think I could learn to like this._

She let her hand fall into Fausta’s with a clap. Stunned, Raven could only look at her hand, a small manic laugh bubbling up as the seconds ticked by. She smothered her laugh with her other hand, watching Fausta slowly wrap her fingers around Raven’s. After several minutes, Raven’s laughter came to an abrupt stop when Fausta touched her arm with her free hand. Again the skin crawling sensation she was used to was either gone or the alcohol was so strong her mind didn’t pay the feeling any mind. Regardless, this was something Raven didn’t expect. Curious, she scooted closer until her knee touched Fausta’s.

“Either...either-” Raven hiccuped- “The alcohol is working really well or I’m not as broken as I thought...who would have guessed?” She giggled, her lead lolling back. “Not me, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Nothing is permanently broken beyond repair,” Fausta mused, running her hand up Raven’s arm to her shoulder. “It may not be what it once was. But that also means it can be something new.” She cupped Raven’s cheek, smoothing her thumb over the jagged and angry scar. “Would you like to lie down in bed with me?”

“I uhh...y-yeah. I think I need to lie down. My body feels heavy and my head is spinning…also my fingers are tingling.”

Raven crawled to the head of the bed and flopped down, burying her face amongst the pillows. She breathed deep, the smell of cheap perfume, sweat, and sex lingering in the fabric. Fausta’s hand settled on Raven’s back, rubbing up and down like a mother soothing a child. It was something Raven hadn’t felt since she was a little girl. She closed her eyes, trying to picture what her life was like when she was still little. The nights she’d wake up from a nightmare, soothed back to sleep by her mother’s touch and a familiar lullaby. 

_Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,  
Smiles await when you rise.  
Sleep,  
Pretty baby,  
Do not cry,  
And I will sing a lullaby._

_Cares you know not,  
Therefore sleep,  
While over you a watch I’ll keep.  
Sleep,  
Pretty darling,  
Do not cry,  
And I will sing a lullaby_

“You have a beautiful singing voice,” Fausta said quietly. Raven’s back shuddered under her touch, no doubt the memories of her past painful. Her heart went out to the young elf before her, whose life had not been kind.  
“My mother used to sing it to me when I was little. I had terrible nightmares before I came into my magic...well, they’re still present. I can just sleep a tad longer than when I was little,” she snorted. Raven rolled onto her back and looked up at Fausta, whose hand came to rest on Raven’s stomach.  
“I’m sure she misses you very much.”

“Doubtful,” Raven snorted. “I’m sure my mom thanked the Maker and the Creators when I left.”

“No parent hates their child.”

“She didn’t hate me...she was scared of me...terrified. Scared of what I did and can do. But it’s in the past. They have little Enan, and they can be a whole and happy family...maybe even move back to the city.”

A sharp knock at the door signaled Raven’s time was almost up. She jumped at the sound and tried to sit up. But a gentle hand to her shoulder kept her in place. 

“Calm. Be still,” Fausta soothed. “It’s just someone telling you your time is up.”

“I...I see.”

“Can you come back tomorrow?” Fausta asked, moving to allow Raven to stand. “We still have much work to do, yes?”

“I...I yes. I can come tomorrow night,” she said quietly, shoving her glasses back up her nose. Raven shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the next, unsure of how to process all of what happened. Most of the alcohol had worn off, and in its place came the unbearable urge to sleep.

“Bien,” Fausta smiled, squeezing Raven’s hand. “Until next time, little bird.”

“You want to do what to my what?”

A few nights later the two women sat across from one another, cross-legged and knees touching. Fausta twined her fingers with Raven's, snorting at the dumbfounded look on Raven’s face. 

“I didn’t stutter, little bird. Do you accept my terms?”

“But how do I benefit from this?” 

“Either you are able to lay in my arms as a lover for five minutes or I pierce something on your body. Think of it as an incentive...I don’t see how that needs further explanation.”

“But I don’t want anything to be pierced!” 

A low whine vibrated from Raven's throat, an uneasy twitch to her body. It wasn't the thought of the needle in her skin that made her uneasy. The last person to see what she kept hidden was Edgar. But she didn’t feel the same unease with Fausta. She felt an almost motherly calm around the woman.

“Well,” Fausta exhaled, smirking. “Then don’t move from my embrace.” 

The older woman shoved a few pillows off her bed and lay down next to Raven. Fausta held her arms open, waiting for an equally tipsy Raven to join her. Raven had come by three nights in a row. Each night she touched a little more, a little longer. She watched the young elf war with her inner thoughts, the Maraas-Lok unable to compete with the anxiety of lying with another person. 

“I assure you. I will not touch you in a sexual manner unless you ask, little bird.”

Raven chewed on the skin around her thumbnail, thinking over the terms of the wager. It was simple enough, she rationalized. She could touch knees and hands with the older woman. Just last night Fausta was able to work some of the tangles out of Raven's unruly curls, braiding the hair in something other than the loose topknot. Laying in bed next to her shouldn’t be that hard, or at least Raven hoped. She swallowed as she moved to lay next to Fausta.

“Good,” Fausta smiled warmly. “Let me know when it gets to be too much.”

Closer and closer they inched, until they shared the same pillow, Raven tucked up under Fausta’s chin. Fausta wrapped her arm around Raven’s waist and pulled her flush against her. She felt the young elf trembling, much like she did the night before. All that separated the women were Raven’s dress and Fausta’s silk robe. Neither of which were made from a thick fabric. It might as well have been skin against skin in Raven’s eyes. She closed hers trying to will away her anxiety. But the problem with that was the more she focused on getting rid of it, the more it became. 

It started small, the thwack of her nails as if she was flicking something away. Her legs grew more and more restless, tangling her dress to the point of binding. Fausta knew Raven's breaking point was reached when her shuddering breaths took on a manic wheeze. The older woman loosened her hold seconds before Raven reeled away and tumbled off the bed. 

Raven lay on the floor gasping for air, cursing herself silently. She had been so close! Only 145 seconds to go and she would have made it to the five minute mark. 

"How do you feel about your nipple being pierced?" 

"My...my what?" Raven scrambled to sit up, her eyes just shy of seeing onto the bed. She rocked to the side, grabbing the coverlet before she toppled over. The sudden movement caused her head to spin and her vision blurred. A handful of seconds passed, as she waited for her vision to clear. 

"Consider it a gift to remember me by," Fausta chuckled, standing on the opposite side of the bed. 

"Most people give someone jewelry or like a momento knick knack." Raven pushed her glasses back up her nose and shot the woman a withering stare. 

"I am giving you jewelry. You just need a hole in which it can go."

"Why not my ear!?"

"Because it's not made for your ear," Fausta snorted. 

Raven flopped back to the ground smacking her head on the rough wooden floor. She groaned, covering her unbound breasts with her hands. Fausta glided about the room, knowing where everything she needed was located. She settled on the floor next to Raven's prone body, laying her supplies out on a silk scarf. 

“Have...have you done this before?” 

Raven tilted her head, looking at the hollow needle pinched between the woman's index finger and thumb. Fausta held it over an open flame, pulling it away when it got red hot. She cooled it with a strip of cloth soaked with alcohol, after waving it in the air for a minute. 

“Don’t worry,” Fausta teased. “I have pierced more genitals than any one whore has seen in their lifetime. Right or left."

“Ok-okay…and left," she muttered, exposing her left breast with reluctance.

Raven sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the ordeal to finish. She jerked when the alcohol soaked cloth cleaned her nipple. The warm summer air dried her skin quickly, leaving it a stiff peak. A breath hissed through her teeth as Fausta grabbed her breast and held it in her hand, bracing it for the needle. 

"On the count of three...una...due." 

With a swift and sure hand, Fausta pierced through Raven's nipple. The petite elf let out a small whine as the hollow needle moved through her skin. The jewelry replaced the needle, a strange pain that wasn't wholly unpleasant left in its place. 

"Now you have something to remember our time," Fausta snorted, patting Raven on her thigh. "Ah, perfect timing," she smiled hearing the familiar knock. 

"It feels weird."

Raven sucked in a breath between clenched teeth as her dress brushed against her nipple. Again the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was in that strange limbo between pleasure and pain. She pressed her palm to her breast as she stood, covering her hand with healing magic. The pain faded to a dull ache. 

"You will get used to it with time...and Zev will know what to do with it if he ever sees it," she purred close to Raven's ear. 

A shudder ran down Raven’s spine, more towards the thought of Zev's hands upon her skin. He was candid about his past experiences, his vastly outweighing her own. With the recent thought that had started to grow, she found her mind conjuring images and dreams of what it would be like. But all Raven had to compare were the frenzied trysts she happened upon in the Circle, and Edgar. Neither of which helped her situation. It only added to the frustration as a strange feeling continued to grow. 

Fausta gave Raven's shoulders a gentle squeeze as she propelled Raven to the door. At the threshold, she grabbed her hand.

"I have a favor to ask."

"Of course." Raven turned, looking up expectantly at the woman. 

"When you see him next, tell him I would very much like to see him. Though I doubt he remembers me. It's been so long."

"Of course."

"Grazie," Fausta flashed her a brilliant smile, and watched Raven follow the man from last night until she was out of sight.

There were a million things running through Raven's head when she stepped out into the night air, thick with the budding dew. Her mind ran rampant with the plethora of thoughts in her mind, all of which ending up at Zev. The letter to him was proving harder to write than the one to Sparrow. Her main hangup, aside from how she treated him, was the great fear of the uncertainty. If what Gab did say was true, she was afraid of losing his friendship. She'd rather suffer from uncertainty internally than face the prospect of a life without him. 

But Raven couldn't burn that bridge until she got to it. So she did like she did every night the past week when she returned home. She sat at her desk, Potato Soup nestled in the hollow of her crossed legs, and tried to write down what it was she wanted to say to him. Dawn was on the horizon before she slipped under the covers, thoughts and memories of him following her into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zev will be back next chapter. I'm excited for their reunion. lol  
> Thank y'all for the comments and kudos <3


	8. Chapter 8

Sunset had long since came and went, the muggy heat from the day lingering in the humid air. It felt as though a blanket of moisture had settled over everything, making the heat unbearably sticky. Most citizens of the city were used to the humidity, and adjusted their daily life accordingly. 

But Raven was still having trouble. Since her last evening with Fausta a few days prior, she rarely left the villa. Her nightly forays into the city stopped, instead opting to stay in her room with Potato Soup. Though it wasn’t just the affectionate kitten’s company she sought. The apology she wanted to write for Zevran was still an amalgam of half finished thoughts scattered on various pieces of scrap paper. Sparrow’s was written and sealed, lest she reread it and deem it unworthy. Gab and Nat had assured her countless times the apology was more than sufficient and it was best to leave it as it was. Any more meddling would make it an indiscernible rambling, which was what Raven was worried about in the first place. 

“I still don’t know what to say, Soup,” Raven sighed. 

She lay stretched out on the floor, the tiles cooling her heated skin. Her dress from the day had been discarded on her bed, the cloth she used for washing damp and draped across her bare chest. Like her, Potato Soup sprawled out on the tile, finding it too hot to curl up on Raven like he was apt to do. He let out a sigh of a meow, breaking up his quiet panting. 

“Easier done than said,” Raven muttered. “Speaking what’s on my mind is what got me into this mess. I need to be concise, have it written down...or I’m going to go off on tangents and repeat the same things over and over. But I also don’t know how to start this...though not because I don’t know why, mind you. That part is easy. I know what I did wrong. But to say it aloud...I don’t know if I’m ready to say that...or what he might say...if-when he agrees with me.”

Raven’s head lolled to the side, studying the sleeping kitten while she thought. Tonight was the night she was supposed to return to the library, and her mind had been a half-step away from crisis all day. She was convinced she either had several small anxiety attacks or one long functioning one all day. It had completely drained what energy she had, leaving her grip weak and her hands shaky. But Raven wasn’t going to cancel. It would be no better than running in her eyes. She had tried to nap as the sun was setting, but her mind was too chaotic for her to find a moment’s rest. Over and over scenarios played in her head, all of them ending the same. 

_ Alone _ .

The tolling of the hourly bell snapped her out of her trance, a low groan in her throat as she pulled herself up. She scooped Potato Soup up and deposited him on her pillow, with a small kiss to the top of his head. Raven threw her dress over her head, making a beeline for the door. She grabbed the bag of books, triple checking her apology letter was tucked away in the side pocket. 

Her body felt like lead with each step she took, her bare feet kicking up dust as she almost shuffled down the cobbled streets. She was finding it harder and harder to not panic as the red roof of the library came into view. Raven settled in her customary spot, sitting cross-legged under the statue, and dug the letter out of the bag. Her fingers smoothed across the folded parchment, the creases worn in from her unfolding and refolding the letter during the days leading up to the library. She stuffed it back in the bag, afraid she would tear it to shreds with her nerves. 

Over and over Raven rehearsed what she wanted to say, closing her eyes to better visualize the letter. She was unaware of the pair of honey eyes that watched her from across the courtyard. Nor was she aware of said person closing the distance between them until a familiar warm chuckle washed over her. She instantly and visibly relaxed every muscle in her body, a small smile on her face. 

  
  


“Such a serious scowl for such a pretty face. You will have wrinkles when you reach my age, mio caro.”

Zevran felt his entire body relax the moment her eyes snapped up and met his. There was a tenseness about him he carried, as if he was expecting someone to leap out of the shadows. But with her the feeling melted away. He stopped in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. 

“You’re-you’re back?” She breathed, confused.

“Si,” he chuckled, smoothing his thumbs across her kneecaps. “Bela’s ship landed not long ago."

Zevran paused, fully expecting her to launch herself at him, when he felt her tense under his grip. Immediately he released her and took a small step back, his affectionate smirk replaced by a thinly veiled look of worry. Something had changed since they had last talked. What it was he couldn’t guess. But a sick feeling settled in his stomach as she continued to close herself off. 

“What’s wrong? Have the Crows found you?” His eyes roved the buildings, looking for the glint of metal from arrow or armor. 

“No...no, nothing like that,” she muttered with a small shake of her head, gesturing at him. “I just...I haven’t figured out how I was going to word this, and now you’re back too soon." The words tumbled from her lips, picking up in speed with each frantic breath. "You weren’t supposed to...I didn’t think you’d come back now...and now I’m going to try to explain things without them written down, and it’s going to make an even bigger mess than last time...because we all know how skilled I am at putting my own foot in my mouth...and it’s all going to go to shit, and I’m trying to do better...and it’s not going to work.”

“Calma, mio caro,” Zevran soothed. “Just breathe.” 

She looked at him with a manic gleam in her eye, her wheezing breaths shaking her entire body. Zevran reached out for her, hovering between wanting to help soothe and not touch her. But her hands shot out and gripped his forearms, long nails digging into his skin. He stepped closer, tangling one hand in her familiar frizzy curls, his other rubbing up and down her thigh. With a gentle nudge Zevran tipped her forward until she pressed her forehead against his. She grabbed fistfuls of his tunic, pulling him closer. 

“Just breathe, mio caro. Will you, por favor?” 

She closed her eyes and nodded, seconds ticking way to minutes. The frantic wheeze slowed to an exhausted exhale, her white knuckle grip on his tunic relaxing. Shame colored her cheeks and chest a blotchy red when everything calmed. Zev smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone, loosening his hold on the back of her head. 

“That has not happened since the first night we were here. As much as I treasure the memory, I do not think we should relive it, no?”

Zevran relaxed when he caught the subtle roll of her eyes and the corner of her mouth twitch. “Ahh, she smiles...you know, it was something I could never get right in my dreams. I was afraid I would forget it before I returned to Antiva City. But now I know where my memory was wrong, the dimple...here.” Zevran rubbed his thumb over her cheek, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her mouth. “What happened?"

“Ir abelas,” she sniffed, untangling herself from him. “A lot has happened since you left…and I've realized a few things...about me."

Farther and farther Zevran's stomach fell as the distance between them grew. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, resigning himself to the change that was to come. So afraid of what was between them leaving, he inadvertently drove her away. But it was for the best in the end. He didn't want to taint her with the blood on his hands. What he wanted and what he deserved were two very different things. Even if his dear friend The Warden said otherwise. 

"Q-Que?" He shook his head, shaking the thoughts from his mind. "I was distracted."

"I-I said-" she sucked in a deep breath as she met his gaze- "I've been using you...taking advantage of your kindness without asking...and I...I was only thinking of myself and not what made you comfortable. Ir abelas. I understand if you...if you wish to keep this strictly professional."

Zevran visibly relaxed, hanging his head. He sighed in relief knowing he had not lost one of the few good things to ever happen to him. Hands that had fallen to her side snaked up and around her, settling on the familiar dip of her waist. He stepped closer, tugging her towards him once again. The familiar warm, comforting feeling washed over him the longer he held her. Weeks of stress washed away with the familiar shape of her hips under his hands and the familiar pulse of her magic. 

"Professional is the last thought on my mind when I see you, mio caro." Zev reached up and pinched her lips shut, chuckling when her confusion gave way to annoyance. "Un momento...let me explain, por favor…The Crows taught me many things growing up...it was not an easy life. I grew up amongst those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favor of the kill." He released her lips, his eyes trained to the pinkish tint from his grasp. “I have grown used to people wanting me for nothing more than the skills I have mastered….but not you."

Zevran stopped, not wanting to admit to her the things he had done. There was something about her that made him want to hide the ugliest parts of him, afraid she would leave if she ever saw them. But Zevran would never admit to that. He was an assassin. Such things are not for people like him. Not with people like her. He had accepted what his life would become, and he wasn’t going to sully her with what remained. 

"Do you-" she swallowed, the faint color to her cheeks not unnoticed by Zev as her gaze flicked away- "do you enjoy sex or is it something you look for because it's...it's," her brows furrowed as she paused a moment. "It's like when I touch you… it had been so long since I had any sort of physical contact that wasn't...Edgar."

"You ask the strangest of questions, mio caro," Zevran huffed a laugh, hiding the strained edge to his voice. 

He was unwilling to admit the question she voiced was one he asked on the loneliest of nights. The nights he'd throw himself into alcohol and sex, not knowing the name of the person he fucked with abandon. Chasing the ecstasy of thoroughly fucking his bedmate, not the afterglow when they would lie intertwined in a tangle of limbs and soft caresses. He would never admit it was those scant few moments he chased with an almost frenzy. 

"It's just," she paused, seeming to think over how to word what she was thinking. "We’re kinda similar, in a way...and when I realized I didn't find your touch repulsive...I craved...crave it...to the point that I didn’t think about what you wanted, because all I could think of was the feeling and how I felt...and that was wrong of me." 

Again she paused, drawing back far enough to look him in the eye. She reached up and cradled his face, her fingers tangling in his hair. The soothing motion of her thumb across his cheek and temple drew him in closer. Zevran pulled her hips flush with his, needing to be closer to her. For once the affection wasn't sexual in nature, and he found himself craving it more than the high after a good fuck.

Something must've shown on his face, her fingers halting their soothing caress. She looked at him with an unwavering stare, what she was looking for he could not tell. Zevran felt wholly exposed as her cloudy eyes roved his face. Her nails scratched his scalp as she curled her fingers, a shiver running down his spine. 

"Ahh, it’s just old scars and nothing more which you see. Ignore them as I do, and perhaps they’ll go away," he chuckled wryly, closing his eyes with a satisfied hum. "Claire?"

"Claire?" 

"Or Ingrid?"

"Oh...my name," she breathed.

Zevran hummed, running his hands up and down her thighs. The thin fabric of her cotton dress caught on his calluses, occasionally tracing his fingertips along the visible outlines of her tattoos. She sucked in a breath, her thighs pressing against him when he lightly scratched his nails close to the juncture of her thighs. 

It had started as an attempt to distract her - and him - from the direction the conversation was going. He didn't want to answer or even think about her question. But the small gasp and scrape of her nails against his scalp stirred a familiar feeling. Just a simple shift and he could grind his growing erection against her heat. The start of a familiar song and dance that Zevran knew as well as breathing. But to go down that path would change what was between them irrevocably. While he desired her, and the thought of her moaning his name was something he imagined almost every night, he didn’t want to lose whatever it was between them. For the first time he met someone who had no ulterior motives. Who saw him for him. Well what he let her see, and she didn’t pity or revile him. To lose that was something he feared would be worse than Rinna. 

"-ven," she sighed, her hips twitching under his hands. 

"Que?"

"Raven…it's my name."

  
  
  


Raven felt - more than heard - the silence that settled over them. It had been something that had been plaguing her since the moment she saw him this evening. She had forgotten when the lingering panic came to a crescendo and broke through the dam. Again Zevran was her moor and she inwardly scolded herself for relying on him. It was something Raven told herself she wouldn’t do anymore if he let her stay. She pulled herself away, her hands falling to her lap, the familiar nervous tick picking at the scabs around her nails. 

“Zev...Zev-ran?” Raven’s voice had gotten quiet, barely above a whisper, as she curled in on herself as much as she could. “Ir abelas...I had thought it was unfair to keep my name from you...I didn’t want things to be uneven anymore if you allowed me to stay. But I messed it up again, didn’t I?”

Zevran sighed, a weary smile on his face. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. Raven tried to duck her head away, but he nudged hers back with his. A warmth spread through her in the wake of the path his hands travelled across the exposed skin on her back as he molded her against him. Raven hid her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. 

“Mi amor,” Zevran sighed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “I could have said no that night. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.” 

“But the kiss…”

“Was on our terms.” 

Zevran pulled back and cupped her face. He copied her earlier motions, smoothing his thumb across her temple. His other hand covering hers. He worked his fingers in between her hands, interlacing their fingers. Raven focused on the rhythmic motion of his thumb smoothing across her skin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, fighting down the growing anxiety. 

“I did it again, didn’t I?” she asked quietly.

“Si,” Zevran chuckled. “I should have brought you with me to Kirkwall, instead of sending the note. All this overthinking will be the death of me.”

“You wanted me to go to Kirkwall with you?” Raven sat back to better look at him, a confused wrinkle in her brow. “Why?”

“Meeting Alistair wouldn’t have taken more than a few days. It was something else that took longer.”

“What? A job?”

“No. I was…,” Zevran paused, as if unsure. “I tracked down a Dalish clan I met in the past. They are an old friend's family.”

“A cl-clan? Was it the one from your childhood?” 

A strange bubbling excitement started to build within her. If Zevran had contact with a clan, they might know if hers had survived, and she could go home. Raven could return to her old life, before The Circle, before...Zevran. It was something she never gave much thought, until the prospect of going back home was potentially within her grasp. She had gotten so used to Antiva, to Gab and Nat, to Zevran that she didn't know if she could leave that. It wasn't the thought of leaving the villa or Gab and Nat behind that stirred a panic. Though she had only known him a short time, Zevran had become an important part of her life. But a faint voice in the back of her head told her she was home...he was home. 

“No, they are a Fereldon clan that escaped the Blight. I had hoped they would have come across yours since they left Sundermount.”

“I take it they didn’t?”

“No,” Zevran frowned. “Mi dispiace. They knew nothing.”

“It’s alright,” Raven muttered, biting back a smile that confused her. “Thank...thank you for looking.” 

“Un momento.” He raised their clasped hands and tilted her head back to better see her face. “You are smiling, why?”   


“I uhhh…I don't know?”

Raven fidgeted, averting her eyes. She tried to pull away. But this was the one time, Zevran almost refused to let her go. He hummed leaning closer, the knowing, amused smirk on his face embarrassed her to no end. He was able to see something Gab also saw, but she was unable...or didn’t want to admit. 

“Raven,” Zevran purred, low and slow. 

A shiver ran down her spine and her thighs twitched against him. He had called her his plethora of nicknames for her in the same voice in the past. But hearing her name in the same tone lit something within her. She jumped, a strange noise bubbling up in her throat when his warm breath hit the sweat slicked skin on the side of her neck. Zevran whispered her name again, his lips brushing against the skin behind her ear, a small whine in the back of her throat. 

If she was warm before, Raven was certain she must be on fire now. A restless energy started to build as the seconds ticked by. His hands settled back on her waist, steadying her. Calloused fingers pressed into her lower back, shooting jolts of heat through her entire body. She was certain he could feel her heart trying to beat out of her chest. It was all too much, and not enough. Raven wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but she was reaching the point that she didn’t care. 

“Z-Zev,” Raven breathed, wetting her lips. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Something feels weird...I feel hot.”

“Do you wish to stop?” He asked, pulling away to look at her. 

“I...no…no.” 

She shook her head furiously, her glasses sliding down her nose. Zevran chuckled and pushed them back up her nose, leaning in close.

“Bien.” 

Raven’s fingers curled into his tunic and pulled him closer, when he pulled away. His low hum against her neck sent another shiver through her. Her fingers wandered across his chest, twitching when they found his bare skin. The hum low in his throat emboldened her, her fingers slipping inside the open front of his. She smoothed her fingers across the planes of his chest, following the lines of countless scars.

“There is no one like you,” Zevran said quietly against her neck, nipping the skin. 

Her nails dug into his chest when another shiver ran through her. He growled and bumped her head to the side with his nose. Everything flashed hot and white when Zevran sunk his teeth into her neck. What she did with Varnehn was nothing compared to this. There wasn’t a fire, an aching hollowness in her back then. She felt her magic crackle to the surface of her fingertips. Zevran shuddered and moaned when her magic surged into him. Raven reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair pulling his head back to look at him. 

A silent question passed between the two of them, both too far gone to think straight. In one swift motion, Zevran tangled his fingers into the hair at the back of her head and kissed her. 

  
  
  


Zevran had kissed dozens of people in his life. But none hit him like this. It was more than any adrenaline rush or frenzied fuck he had ever experienced. 

“I had...I had n-no idea,” Raven panted, her lips brushing his. “Is it always like th-this?”

Zevran didn’t trust himself to speak. Not with the turbulent feelings twisting around inside him. All he could do was give a small shake of his head before he yanked her back down. He adjusted his grip to her jaw nipping at her bottom lip until she opened her’s with a small moan. He licked into the hot cavern of her mouth, groaning when a fresh wave of her magic surged through him. 

“We need...we need to stop,” Zevran panted, pulling away. 

“Wh-Why?” 

The almost needy whine of her voice sent a jolt of arousal to his now throbbing cock. All he wanted to do was take her somewhere where he could get lost in her wet heat. But he didn’t want the rush of the arousal to end and have Raven push him away. Even if his cock and Raven wanted otherwise. 

“You have books to return, yes?”

Still breathing heavy, Zevran reached around and yanked the bag forward, Raven lurching with the bag strap. He chuckled at her exaggerated choking noise when it snagged on her neck as he pulled it off of her. Raven caught herself before she fell, her chest flush against him. Zevran slung the bag over one shoulder and wrapped his free one around her waist. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth. 

“I-I do...you’re right,” Raven breathed, dazed. 

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he helped her off the base of the statue. She stumbled into his chest, clinging to him. 

“Are you falling for me, mio caro?” 

There was a pregnant pause as she blinked up at him. His pun finally broke through the fog in her brain, her face twisting in disgust as she shoved her glasses up her nose and stepped away. Zevran followed her around the building, laughing until tears stung his eyes. He doesn’t know what it was about her reaction that hit him so hard. But Zevran couldn’t stop laughing. It died to a chuckle as he climbed through the unlocked window and held out his hand. 

“That was terrible,” Raven muttered when she climbed inside. “You’re terrible.”

“Si,” Zevran chuckled, kissing her temple. 

  
  


Raven felt as if she was floating through the library, barely paying attention to where the books were supposed to go. The effects of the kiss still hadn’t worn off, even if the terrible pun brought her back. But what happened outside was more than a kiss. A kiss is what she and Varnehn did when they were sixteen, vallaslins freshly tattooed on their faces.

What she and Zev did was more than that. It felt life-changing. Consuming. At least for her. Raven didn’t know how he felt about it, if he was as affected as she. She didn’t want to ruin the strange tingling in her body or the quiet of her mind by asking too many questions. 

But she came crashing back later the second Zevran muttered a curse by her ear and yanked her to the darker area of the library. He pressed his hand against her mouth and shielded her with his body. Raven didn’t have long to wait until the source of what spooked Zevran made itself known. She felt - more than saw - what was lurking in the library. 

_ Blood magic.  _

Raven shuffled around, grabbing the small dagger in Zev’s waistband. He tried to snatch it from her grip, but she ducked out of the way and started to walk to the end of the aisle. 

“Wait,” Zevran whispered, grabbing her wrist. “There’s something out there, and we are unarmed.”

“You are,” Raven countered, looking over her shoulder. “I’m a mage...and there’s someone trying to summon a demon.” 

The slap of the serpent hitting the floor in its physical form drew Zevran’s attention long enough for Raven to free herself. It slithered over his feet, the opposite direction Raven was going. 

“Stay hidden. I can’t protect you and kill whatever is out there.”

“No!” Again Zevran reached out and grabbed her wrist. “We go together, yes?”

“Fine...but please let go. I can’t do what I need to do if you’re holding me.”

They rounded the corner and a wave of nauseating power washed over her. She fought back the urge to vomit, stepping away from Zev. The tables and chairs had been shoved aside far enough for the caster to draw something on the floor. The height of the reading area and the railing surrounding it blocked a lot of the writing. 

It was too dark and she was too far away to properly discern what she could see. But the pulsating power and bood could only spell one thing. Why they were summoning a demon here Raven had no idea. The only thing she could think of was the night they barely fled the Nightmare demon, and the noble dabbling in things beyond their comprehension.

If she didn’t act fast, there was no way she’d be able to protect Zevran. Not unless the serpent disposed of the other person lurking in the darkness of the library. Unless they were the source of the blood. But she couldn’t focus on that. All Raven could do was kill what was in front of her. Letting other things plague her mind would only lead to defeat, as Gab so eloquently put countless times she knocked Raven on her ass.

_ Breath deep. Focus. Left foot back. Do not hesitate.  _

She pulled on her mana, blanketing herself in a cloak of invisibility. It didn’t last long. But it would give her enough time to get closer. She took off at a sprint, the pitter patter of her bare feet hitting the marble echoing in the quiet. The cloak faded twenty feet from the mage, giving Raven just enough space to attack. 

They were young, barely out of their teens. Obviously sent not to kill but goad the two of them into following. She Fade-stepped forward, knocking the mage back with a mind blast. They stumbled back, off balance enough for Raven to shove them over the railing farthest from Zevran. The air was knocked out of their lungs, Raven vaulting over and crouching next to them. 

“Stay back!” Raven called out, spotting Zev in the corner of her eye. “He’s a blood mage.”

It wasn’t directly a lie. But she couldn’t have him see what she was about to do to get the man to talk. She pricked her finger with the dagger she took off Zev, drawing a symbol on the man’s forehead. 

“Who do you work for?”

“Fuck you knife-ear!” 

The man spat, blood splattering on her face. Her tongue darted out and licked the blood off her lip, a low hum in the back of her throat. She felt the responding trill from the snake, the other person long dead. Part of her wanted to stop. But it was too late, a price needed to be paid and it wasn't going to be her. 

“Whether or not you tell me is of no matter to me,” she whispered, stabbing the knife into his hand. “I will still get what I want from you...and it’s not answers.”

A feral smile spread across her face as she twisted the knife and jerked it out. The man’s mouth opened in a silent scream, the symbol on his forehead silencing him. She pulled on her mana, feeling the rush of power and bound him to the floor. 

“You are nothing more than the sacrificial lamb sent to slaughter...and I am not a kind butcher.” 

Over and over she stabbed and sliced, missing any major arteries that would kill the young mage. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to break free. But the more they struggled the more Raven felt the wellspring within her grow. She would have made it quick and painless. But that wouldn't have worked in the long run. The snake slithered up coiling on the man’s stomach. It’s eyes settling on Raven, taking the offering. The runes swirling on its skin pulsed and glowed, brighter and brighter as Raven started to sing, a nursery rhyme her mother taught her as a child. A mad giggle on the edge of her voice as her mind continued to slip.

_ Butch the butcher needs a new high.  _

_ Ah, carving a human he craves to try.  _

Raven leaned forward, smearing the symbol on his forehead. The man's ragged gasping filled the silence, well into shock. 

“Hey...hey, look at me.” Raven tapped his sweaty cheek with the flat end of the bloody knife. “I’ll end the pain if you tell me who sent you.”

His head lolled, eyes unfocused, mouth moving but no words coming out. Raven clicked her tongue, realizing she might have gone too far on such a young mage. The voice of reason was faint, almost drowned out by the sound of rushing water and a wordless whisper. She knew she was slipping and the snake... _ demon _ was pressing its advantage, in Raven’s lapse of judgement. Raven had never slipped this far. But her life was no longer like the Circle, and there wasn't only Edgar to deal with. There were things - someone - she needed to protect.

“Enough!” Raven spat, glaring at the serpent. “You have what you want, Glutton-” she waved the knife at the boy- “leave my mind in peace.”

The serpent turned its gaze to the boy, his eyes snapping into focus. Raven knew the silent conversation they were having. She had heard it herself once. The demon’s rich, velvety voice would wash over the boy. It would lull him into a false sense of comfort, more susceptible to what the demon wanted. But it wasn’t the demon, not truly. The state of her mind influenced what form it would take. It was why she had to be careful. If she slipped, it grew. Normally she wouldn’t have slipped so easily, opening her mind to its influence. But Zevran was here, and she would do whatever was necessary to protect him. 

She knew the second the boy gave in, the serpent’s eyes glowed and the boy stopped breathing. Raven watched the air leave his lungs, the weight of the serpent pushing it out quicker. Sated, the snake slithered up and around her body, blood smearing on her skin and clothes. As it settled, Raven shivered and moaned when what the serpent took from the boy rushed through her. It was a dizzying rush, leaving her limbs tingling as she tried to stand. 

“He's from Tevinter. He was sent by a Crow who was hired by someone,” Raven called out, breathless. “He wasn’t sent to kill us. But to get our attention.”

“Mierda!” Zevran swore. “Who?”

He closed the distance between them, quirking his brow when Raven rushed forward. She stopped a few feet from him, remembering she was covered in the boy’s blood. A blush tinged her cheeks as she tried to wipe the blood off, but only smeared it.

“He was a blood mage,” Raven shrugged, glancing over her shoulder. “I stopped him in the middle of a ritual meant to summon a demon...Rage from the looks of it. Whoever sent him likely sent others to your apartment and to the villa.”

“No,” Zevran’s face fell devoid of all color. “Sparrow!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [cornfedcrypitd](https://cornfedcryptid.tumblr.com) <3 on tumblr.


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